


My Best Friend's Wedding

by 6mgs7



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: All the words, Alternate Universe, I hate tags, I'll Edit When I'm Dead, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-02
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:48:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 78
Words: 103,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23956384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/6mgs7/pseuds/6mgs7
Summary: While Svetlana and Mickey try to navigate through an unconventional marriage, Ian struggles to overcome his own personal challenges and get on with life.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 38
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fucking Endgamers Always](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Fucking+Endgamers+Always).



> This was written quite some time ago, and hasn't been glanced at since. I cannot stress this enough - it's not edited (Beta? What's a beta??) You are getting it with all the plot holes, grammatical errors, and misspellings, but hopefully you can look past that to the story being told. When I started this, I had no idea what it was about, and still didn't know where was going chapter to chapter; as with most things I write, the characters tend to do whatever the hell they want and weave the story they want to tell. (That's my way of saying I'm not to blame if this sucks)

MANDY: This is a story about my best friend’s wedding… the one he forgot to invite me to. I’m Mandy, the youngest of the Milkovich clan, and sadly the only girl in a houseful of assholes for brothers, not to mention my dad, who took being an asshole to new heights.

Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself – back to Ian, that’s my best friend. He was just one of the dozen shitty Gallagher kids that lived a few blocks from us. We went to the same elementary school, except him and his siblings showed up to learn, while my brothers just went to sell them drugs. Other than that small details, Ian and I had a lot in common – We both lived in shitty little houses, with shitty fathers, our families were both poor as shit, and for the most part we were both living the south side dream, so we didn’t really give a shit. 

Ian and I never really talked until we were in 2nd grade. It started one day when I was on my way home from school alone. These two fuckheads from the middle school came out of nowhere and started following me. Normally, no one got within fifty feet of me because I was always with at least one of my brothers. Tony was the oldest, at seventeen, and like my dad, he was his meanest when he was drinking – which was basically every day. Colin, was a year younger than him, and a total shit, drunk or sober. Iggy was twelve then, and everyone in the neighborhood thought he was the nice one out of the bunch, but Ig’s had no problem busting both of your kneecaps with his bat if you crossed him. All of my brothers had a mean streak, just like my dad. 

Then there’s Mickey. He’s only three years older than me, barely a skosh taller, but he’s the scrappiest one of them all. I’d seen him knock Colin on his ass more than once, and Tony had quit fighting with him all together because Mickey fought for blood. It wasn’t that Mickey was bad through and through. Actually, out of all my brothers he’s probably the best of them – but he being the smallest made him an easy target for our dad who had a habit of speaking with his fists before he used his words.

Mickey had two personality traits that he thought were pure gold, but my dad hated – The first was his big fucking mouth and what he thought was a good sense of humor, but both of these things earned him an ass kicking more often than the rest of us. The second was that Mickey was a nice kid. He had a soft spot and a good heart, and my dad saw that and hated Mickey for it. By the time he was about ten or eleven, my dad had done his best to beat it out of him. In the end, if nothing good came from all the shit Mickey took, at least made him tough. He got used to fighting his way through life, using his fists more than his words, just like my dad did, but thankfully my dad never really managed to destroy Mickey’s heart. He just buried it deep down inside of him with all the rest of that mushy softness, where no one could hurt him again. Well, at least that’s what I always believed. I’ll get back to that in a bit.

\------- 

  
Mandy skipped down the sidewalk, swaying to the music in her earphones and swinging her backpack at her side. She was starving and hoped the boys had left her at least one slice of pizza from the night before. When she was just a block from her house, two boys came jogging up behind her, taunting and teasing, trying to get her attention, but she didn't hear them over the music. One boy grabbed her arm and spun her around, yanking the earphones from her head. The other yanked her backpack away and threw it to the side; Both began tugging at their crotches and howling like hungry hounds. 

“What the fuck!?” She sneered. Instinctively she brought her fists up, ready for a fight. If she’d learned anything from her brothers it was always be ready to throw that first punch.

Robby, a pimple faced little shit from a few blocks away, crowed enthusiastically and held his arms out at his side to keep her from running off. His partner in crime, Nat, another neighborhood dipshit, laughed nervously when he realized it was Mandy _Milkovich._ He looked around to make sure none of her brothers were anywhere in sight. When he was sure the coast was clear, he took his position on the other side of Mandy to make sure she couldn't escape. She struck out at Robby first, who jumped back just in time and laughed. Nat pushed her from behind knocking her off balance and into Robby's arms. They started grabbing her body by the handfuls as she attempted to fight them off. 

“Nice skirt! Let’s see what color panties you got on… I'm gonna get me a little taste of the Milkobitch… You got titties yet… You wanna suck my cock…?"

“Get the fuck away from me!” Mandy cursed, punching Nat square in the nose, “I’ll fucking kill you!” She screamed, a combination of rage and fear bubbling inside of her.

She glanced over her shoulder, hoping one of her brothers might come walking by, but she was all alone. Nat grabbed a handful of flesh between her legs, and Mandy's courage drained as fear began to take over. She cried out, sounding a bit more desperate now, looking for an escape. Both boys pushed and pulled at her until they had backed her into the side of a yard, and once hidden by the bushes, Nat decided to go in for more. He had a wild grin on his face as Robby held Mandy still, covering her mouth so she couldn't scream. Just as he went to lift her skirt, Nat's smile faded quickly away and his hands dropped to his side. His eyes went blank for a second, then he fell straight forward onto the ground with a _THUD!_ Robby let Mandy go.

“What the...“ Robby looked up just in time to see little freckled-faced, Ian Gallagher, charging at him, head first. His face was red with rage and he was snorting like a bull, holding a tire iron high above his head, ready to strike. Just as Ian swung, Robby dodged to the right. Ian fumbled forward, tripping over Robby's foot, then fell headlong into the dirt, dropping the tire iron as he went down. Robby pounced on top of him. He turned poor little Ian over and began punching him in his gut and face, knocking him out cold almost instantly. 

Mandy didn’t waste a second. As soon as she the tire iron had gone flying, her courage returned. She grabbed it and went straight for Robby, hitting him square across his back, but not in time to save Ian from the beating.

“Get off him! Let him go!” She screamed.

Robby turned to defend himself, feeling the bone in his arm crack when Mandy brought the weapon down on him again. Nat started coming to, and rubbed the back of his head where he’d been hit, wondering how he and Robby had ended up in the dirt with Mandy kicking their asses. He knew it had been a bad idea to mess with the _Milkobitch_ , and now, seeing the crazed look on her face, he realized if they didn’t get out of there soon, she wasn’t going to stop until one or both of them were dead in the dirt. Mandy raised the tire iron high in the air, ready to bring it down straight on Robby’s head as lay in the dirt trying to shield himself, when Mickey rounded the corner and came running.

“Mandy, what the fuck!?” Mickey grabbed her from behind and swung her away as she screeched, baring her teeth and fighting him. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

The color drained from Nat and Robby’s face when they Mickey wrestling to control his sister. Small as Mickey was, they knew they were fucked for sure if they didn’t escape before he turned his attention back to them. Pissing off any Milkovich was a bad idea, but pissing off Mickey meant they were marked for life. They’d never go another day on the south side without worrying they might cross his path again. Robby was up first, pushing himself off the ground with his broken arm, hardly noticing the shooting pain. He grabbed Nat’s arm and started dragging him to his feet. They were long gone by the time Mickey managed to pry the tire iron from Mandy’s hands and stop her from another attack. 

Mickey didn’t ask her what had happened. He didn’t ask her who was at fault. All he knew was that his sister was out for blood, and if she wanted blood, then so did he. He turned around as the two boys disappeared around a corner, leaving Ian lying in the dirt alone. He lifted the iron, ready to bring is down on Ian for whatever sin he committed against Mandy, but Mandy jumped in between them and screamed.

“Mickey, NO! Not him!” She held her arms wide, saving Ian from a few broken ribs, “He was helping me!” 

Mickey took a step back, and looked at the bruised and bloody little red head on the ground. “That little runt tried to help you? He’s like… three fucking feet tall.” Mickey frowned. Mandy didn’t point out the fact that Mickey, who was small for his age, was just barely taller than Ian, and yet three years older.

Ian began moaning, grabbing his gut as he came to in the dirt. Mandy bent to help him up, but Mickey yanked her away by the arm. He grabbed her backpack and tossed it to her, then pointed toward the house. 

“Go home. Leave him… he’ll live.” He took a good long look at the Ian’s bloody face. He knew that face – one of the Gallagher kids, “Good job, Freckles,” he said, kicking Ian’s foot to make sure he was conscious and not about to die. “Now get up before some dog comes and takes a dump on your ass.”

Mickey made it home just a minute or two after Mandy. Five minutes later, him and Iggy were out the front door again, bats in hand, off to find the two assholes who thought it was a good idea to mess with their little sister. Mandy waited about ten minutes, then ran down the street toward the Gallagher house to check on Ian. She found him sitting on his back steps, looking a little worse for wear, but alive. That was the day Ian and Mandy became best friends. 


	2. Chapter 2

From that day on, they were inseparable, spending hours on the front stoop in front of Mandy’s house after school, laughing. One of her brothers would eventually get tired of the noise and run them off, but it was never Mickey. As much as Ian annoyed the shit out of him most days, he never ran Ian off the front steps. As a matter of fact, there was almost nothing Ian could do to make Mickey actually lose his cool with him. He came close a few time, having his life threatened, but Mickey always let him live.

The two friends walked to school together, ate lunch together, and walked home together. On weekends, they had sleep overs. They slept on the couch at Ian’s house, where his older sister could keep an eye on things, and when he stayed at Mandy’s, her brothers peeked their heads into Mandy's bedroom every 3 minutes, giving Ian the stink eye as a reminder to keep his perverted paws to himself. Little did any of them realize, Mandy wasn’t exactly Ian's type.

The years went by, and they grew closer, staying tied to one another’s side all through middle school. Mandy grew to be as scrappy as any of her brothers, a dangerous combination of the fire lighting her from inside coupled with a smile that melted boys’ hearts. Ian also blossomed from that scrawny, freckled, curly headed kid into an awkward, lanky boy with a goofy crooked grin. If Mandy got herself in trouble for fighting at school, Ian waited for her to get out of detention. If he had to stay late for any reason, Mandy waited for him at the bleachers where she would get high with Mickey, if he happened to be around. He was almost always around. 

Several times a week Ian and Mandy did theirs homework on the bleachers just so they would have a reason to watch the football team practice. Neither gave a shit about school sports, but It was better than going home. It was also something Ian appreciated almost more than Mandy did.

“Did you know Karen and Lip were fucking?” Ian asked one afternoon as he packed up his notebooks in his backpack. He looked across the field and frowned at Karen Jackson hanging all over his older brother, Philip.

Mandy followed Ian’s glare across field just in time to see Karen, dressed in her tiny cheerleader skirt and wearing a ponytail tied up with a ridiculously oversized bow, stick her tongue down Lip’s throat. 

“God, I fucking hate that bitch,” she scowled.

Mandy had been trying to get Lip’s attention since 6th grade, but he hardly even noticed she was alive, which was hard to believe given the fact that she was at the Gallagher house every day. That was the curse of being the Milkovich little sister – People either saw her as another Milkovich troublemaker, or in Lip’s case, some chick he’d never get involved with unless he wanted to kiss his ass goodbye when her brothers caught wind of it. 

It didn’t matter. Mandy had all but given up on Lip, but that didn’t stop her from hating Karen just the same. Karen was everything Mandy would never be. She was a dimwit cheerleader, an only child from a household that still had two parents. She drove her mom’s car to school every day, and unlike Mandy, the clothes that Karen wore didn’t come from the thrift store, because Karen’s parents had money – at least in comparison to most. Mandy particularly hated the way Karen used her innocent little smile and empty headed giggle to get attention, but at that moment, what Mandy hated most was the tight shirt Karen was wearing that left half her boobs bouncing out all over Lip’s body.

“I don’t know what he sees in her. It’s ‘cause she’s got big tits, isn’t it?” Mandy said sourly, pouting. She pulled the front of her shirt forward and looked down at her own very small breasts which hadn’t quite come in fully... yet (she hoped). Even with the silicone chicken cutlets she’d stolen from the mall, it was barely enough to fill out a B-cup bra. Ian scooched across the bleacher toward her, mirroring her pouty face with his own as he tucked his nose into her shirt to take a peek.

“Yours are coming in nicely, Mands. Those are a solid A+. By this time next year, you’ll have the biggest, sluttiest, boobs around. The girls will hate you and boys will love you, I promise.”

Several of the boys on the field caught Ian looking down her shirt and began to whistle and howl, begging Mandy to share a peek with them. She pushed Ian’s face away, keeping her shirt pulled low, then winked and bit seductively at her lip as she shimmied her shoulders forward to indulged them.

“See… they like ‘em too.” Ian chuckled. He threw his backpack over one arm and caught the facetious side glance Mandy was giving him.

“What about you, Ian? Do you like them?” She grabbed his hand and pulled it hard against one of her breast, rubbing it up and down, trying to get a rise out of him. It wasn’t that she expected one – after all the years they’d been friends, Mandy was almost a hundred percent positive Ian was gay, but he hadn’t come out and said it yet, so she just kept trying.

Ian deadpanned her, yielding to her little game for a few seconds longer until the catcalls and whistling started up again from the field, then he pulled his hand away and nodded his head, laughing.

“Yeah… I like your baby boobies, Mandy.”

She grabbed her backpack, completely unfazed by his indifference and followed him down the bleachers.

“I was thinking of applying at Bob's Burgers. They put a help wanted sign up this morning,” she said, changing the subject abruptly.

For a year both of them had tried to convince Colin or Tony to let them sell pot at school to make a few extra bucks - Tony would have said yes, and Colin might have considered it, but Mickey had stepped in and vetoed the idea, telling them, _“No fucking way. Go the fuck to school and learn shit so you can get a real fucking job.”_ Begrudgingly, they hadn't been old enough for a real job, and had to wait another year before.

“You sure you wanna work at Bob's Burgers? Their uniforms come all the way up to their necks. No one will ever be able to see those giant boobs you’re growing in there.” Ian joked, reaching over to pinch her breast. “I mean, wouldn’t you rather work someplace like Hooters where they’ll get their proper attention? Or maybe Dairy Queen where you can wear one of those tiny red tank tops so your boobs can fall out onto some guy’s foot long… _OUCH!_ ”

She punched him again, laughing, “You’re an asshole.”


	3. Chapter 3

It turned out, both Mandy and Ian got hired together at the Dairy Queen near the zoo. The pay sucked, but the shift manager was only a year older than them and didn’t care what they did as long as they got their orders out. They also got to eat all the hot dogs and ice cream they wanted, as long as they marked it on the IRL - inventory reduction list. The IRL was a list of food that had ‘accidentally' fallen on the floor and couldn’t be served to a customer.

Mickey loved that list. On the days Mandy was running late to work, Mickey would give her a ride in exchange for a couple chili cheese dogs with extra onions, and a chocolate-dipped cone, all of which she added to the IRL. Initially, he was in it for the food, but by the third week he started hanging out in the parking to for Mandy to get off work.

“What’s he doing here?” Ian complained. He was sick and tired of Mickey bitching that there was never enough cheese on the _free_ hot dogs he ate all day. Mandy shrugged. She had grown used to Ian and Mickey’s innocuous bickering after all those years, and secretly hoped they would finally just fight it out once and for all so she wouldn’t have to be in the middle of their stupid drama all the time.

“I think he found himself a few new customers.” Mandy said, nodding in the direction of Mickey’s car. Ian glared at him, knowing exactly what he was up to, and hated it. 

Mickey’s parked in the shady corner of the lot all afternoon, where teens who were too chicken shit to head to the south side could come get a taste. Mickey felt it his personal duty to provide a delivery service and bring it directly to them. They all looked around guiltily as if everyone there didn’t already know Mickey was the local dope dealer. He was no dummy, though; being raised in a house of drug dealers, his guard was always up and he was ready to abort mission if something didn’t feel right. For Mickey, making good money and eating for free all day made it one of the easiest summers he’d had in years. Mickey looked up and caught Ian glaring at him, and did his best not to laugh. The view in his little corner of the lot didn't suck either, either. Instead of cracking a smile, Mickey furrowed his brows in his signature _the-fuck-you-looking-at_ scowl. Ian looked away quickly, and then Mickey laughed. Nope, the view there didn’t suck one bit.

When their shift was over, Mickey was still thereto cart them both back home to the south side, instead of getting in his car, Ian headed in the opposite direct toward the train.

“What’s with your little faggot friend? Too good to be seen in my piece of shit car?”

“I think it has something to do with the fact that you keep calling him my little faggot friend,” Mandy said, sliding into his bucket seats. “Besides, I think he has a date or something.”

Mickey kept his eye on Ian as he got further away in the rear view mirror, then made it a point to squeal his tires as he cut his way into traffic, scaring the shit out of Mandy and the drivers he had cut off. 

“Jesus Christ, Mickey, watch it!"

He ignored the way she clutched the _oh-shit_ handle above her window. “Don’t mean shit. I call everyone faggot. Since when does he care what I call him, anyway?” 

It was true – calling someone a faggot was no different to Mickey than calling someone a dip shit, or asshole, or piece of shit – all things his own dad called him growing up. He had become desensitized himself to those slurs, and now he used them on every possible occasion just so they couldn't bite back when his dad tried to use them on him. There was a whole list of words that meant nothing to Mickey anymore – bitch, fucker, shithead, maggot – they were no longer verbal weapons against him, and he liked it that way. It didn't change the fact that Mandy was throwing daggers at him with her eyes for calling Ian a faggot. 

“The fuck, Mandy? _Now_ you’re gonna get pissed over that shit? I've been calling that dip shit names his whole life!”

She couldn’t tell him the real reason it bothered her so much. If Mickey knew there was even a chance that Ian might be gay, he’d be the first to kick the living shit out of him. Ian hadn't even said the words to her yet, but since they had started working the drive-thru window together and would drag each other to get a peek at the hot boys that came through. Often they would try to guess by the sound of some boy's voice on their headsets if he would be hot or not. At first, Ian was subtle about it, testing the waters with her, but eventually it became their way of entertaining themselves through a long shift, drooling over cute boys, and squealing excitedly when the car drove away. But every day, Mandy worried that Mickey was going to catch on.

“I’m not getting pissed,” Mandy said. “I just wish you’d lay off him. You’ve never liked him and he’s never done anything to you.”

That wasn’t true. Mickey liked Ian just fine. He had never forgotten the day the freckled-face little shit had taken a tire iron to those two boys to save his sister from trouble, and since that day, Mickey had never kicked Ian’s ass a single time.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Mandy, I’ve never even kicked his ass, and believe me, he deserved it! Remember that time that little fucker knocked a beer over on that tray of weed I was weighing out? Then, like the fucking dumb ass that he is, he grabbed a wet rag from the kitchen sink to try to clean it up! He’s a fucking idiot. I shoulda killed his faggot ass right there and then.” Mickey hit the gas, doubling his speed as he got fired up about all the shit he didn’t kick Ian’s ass for. “Oh, and what about the time that asshole broke a window when you were like eleven… remember that? And I took a fucking fist from Terry covering for that little shit. I swear to god, I got my ass kicked at least a dozen times just to keep him out of trouble. I shoulda just given it back to him every time Terry kicked my ass instead of his. Ian’s fucking lucky he’s still alive.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok – Jesus, Mickey… just go easy with the 'faggot' shit, would you? He doesn’t need you fucking with him all the time.”

Mickey rolled her words around in his head a minute and chuckled at the thought of fucking with him. Yeah, he’d be happy to go easy on Ian… and maybe even fuck with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NZKXkD6EgBk

Summer grew warmer and Chicago tourists thicker, all in search of an ice-cold treat and maybe a little something else from Mickey, since he was right there. Soon he was busy enough that he began splitting up the weekends with Iggy. Ian was relieved that Mickey was gone, but by the second weekend he kind of missed his shit talking impudence. Iggy was definitely nicer to Ian, and remembered to say thank you for all the free sundaes he ate, instead of bitching the way Mickey did that there weren't enough nuts or maraschino cherries – but somehow it wasn’t _better_. Ian found himself missing the way he would catch Mickey glaring at him a dozen times each day, and started looking forward to seeing Mickey’s black Chevelle roar into the parking lot come evening.   
  
One other thing had significantly changed at the Dairy Queen as well. 

“Mandy! Remember last week when I told you about the guy with the Caddy? He came back and asked me for my number!” There it was… the giddy, giggly, gay boy Mandy had always known was hidden inside of Ian came bubbling out. It wasn't his norm, but every now and then it came through and made her laugh.

“Where is he? Is he still here?” She craned her neck over the counter, looking for a Caddy in the parking lot and wondering how rich the kid was to be driving around in a Cadillac… probably his parent’s.

“Gone.” Ian said, giving his attention back to his headset, “Welcome to Dairy Queen, may I take your order?” he covered the mouthpiece to whisper to Mandy, “He’s coming to pick me up after work.”

\---

11 o’clock came around, and like clockwork, the Caddy pulled into a parking spot right next to Mickey’s Chevelle. The driver didn’t get out, but only glanced at Mickey and gave a half smile and a friendly nod. Mickey flipped him off, thinking he looked like a fucking narc or a cop. When Mandy and Ian finally came strolling out of the back door at a snails pace, Mickey laid on his horn. Mandy rolled her eyes and raised one hand in the air, flipping him off the entire time the horn was blowing, which was the same amount of time it took her get to his car.

“Asshole.” She said, handing him the orange cream shake she’d made before cleaning the machine. Mickey sipped it and watched Ian walk around to the passenger side of the Cadillac.

“The fuck is he going?” He gripped his steering wheel until his knuckles were white, and from the look her brother was giving Ian, she half expected a feral growl to come out of him. Ian made eyes at the old fuck in the driver’s seat of the Caddy.

“Oh shit…” She whispered under her breath, and tried to think of something to say before Mickey got out and killed Ian and his grandpa date, “That’s… his uncle… Yeah. Let’s go, I wanna get home.”

Mickey revved his engine and spun his tires until a cloud of smoke filled the air; he burned away a thin layer of rubber from his already bare tires then pulled out in front of the Caddy. The sounds of screeching brakes and honking horns was lost on Mickey, and all he thought of was the way Ian had completely ignored him.

***

“Aren’t you even gonna ask me how my date went?” Ian asked Mandy the next day.

“No. And I don’t want to talk about it.” She said curtly. A few seconds later, she added, “And why the fuck didn’t you tell me he was 200 years old, Ian? What the fuck!? You know Mickey saw you two together – I had to think of something fast so I told him it was your uncle. You’re lucky he didn’t put a fucking bat through that guy’s windshield.” She smacked his arm in staccato, _“What. Were. You. Thinking!?”_

He rubbed his arm, “So... you do or you don’t want to talk about it? I’m confused."

“I’m not telling you who you should date, but A) try dating someone born in this century… or even _last_ century, for god’s sake… and B) My brothers will fucking kill you if you pull that shit in front of them. You remember my brothers, right? Mickey… little short ratty-looking asshole with a gun under his front seat? And Iggy, frowny fucker with a bat? Last name Milkovich, as in Will-Fuck-Your-Gay-Ass-And-Not-In-The-Fun-Way-Milkovich?” She shook her head at him and walked away.

Ian stood there considering what she’d said. “Does that mean you don’t want me to ask if he has a brother?”  
  
After that, Ian was more careful, always aware of where Iggy or Mickey were. Watching out for Mandy’s brothers left Ian hyper-aware of the fact that Mickey was also constantly watching him as well. It left him on edge, and he began making mistakes in customer's orders as the days went on. By the end of the week, Ian was positive Mickey was there just for surveillance, and he started to worry that Mr. Caddy might show up unexpectedly. If the did, Ian was sure they would both end up dead. He decided the old guy hadn’t been that exciting after all, and sent a text to cancel their next date. It just wasn’t worth risking his life, and the way Mickey was looking at him fro across the parking lot, Ian was positive that’s exactly what he was risking. After a few weeks without any major run-ins, Mickey seemed to forget about him, and Ian started to let his guard down again.

That was a mistake. What happened next happened so fast that even Mandy never saw it coming. It was closing time, and she and another employee were busy cleaning out the ice cream machines. Ian had gone out back to throw the trash, and had been gone an unusually long when Mandy heard him yelling, “Mickey no! No, leave him alone!”   
  
Mandy went running out the back door. She found a man just a few years older than Mickey lying on the ground and holding his ribs as his broken nose bled all over the asphalt. Ian and Mickey were rolling around on the ground, grunting and kicking, each of them struggling to get one good punch in while holding the other at bay.

_“MICKEY!”_

Mandy jumped on her brother, trying to pry him away before he killed Ian. Ian got a solid punch into Mickey's jaw, and the jolt knocked Mandy off his back. She realized Ian, skinny and scrappy as he was, could hold his own against her brother, and it didn’t look like they were going to stop any time soon.

Mandy ran back into the Dairy Queen and grabbed the bucket of dirty water she had been using to clean, then rushed back out and dumped it onto the two assholes rolling around in front of her.

 _“What the fuck!”_  
  
That got their attention. Both men jumped up, shaking the water off. Mandy jump in between, holding her arms wide to keep them apart.

“What the fuck is right! Why are you two idiots fighting? And who’s the asshole bleeding all over the parking lot?” She screamed. Mickey made a move to get around her but she threw the empty bucket at his head and pointed. “Don’t you fucking dare or I swear to god I’ll cut your balls off!”

Ian stood there, wiping the blood from his lip and breathing hard. His wild eyes stayed glued to his attacker the entire time. “He started it!”

“Fuck you, you little bitch!” Mickey took a leap in his direction, but Mandy wasn’t having it. She jumped in front of him and cut him off.

“Mickey, Go! Go home, now!”

“You should be fucking thanking me for beating the shit out of _that_ asshole and letting your little faggot friend live!” he said, pointing to the guy on the ground.

Ian flipped him off, “Fuck you! I’ll kick your ass any day!”

Mandy rushed toward Mickey before he could take Ian up on that challenge and pushed him toward his car, “That’s enough! Go! Now! And don’t fucking come back, here, Mickey! I’m not kidding! Just stay away.”

Mickey protested, making one last stand before he got in his car, “This isn’t over, Gallagher! You got that?”

She waited for Mickey to leave the parking lot before turning on Ian.

 _“Are you out of your fucking mind?_ You know he has a gun?”

Ian watched Mickey’s car disappear down the street, then pulled his apron from around his waist and threw it to the ground.

“Who gives a fuck, Mandy? I’m done with this shit.” He didn’t bother going back into the store. He just walked toward the train, leaving Mandy behind. 


	5. Chapter 5

MANDY: That was the first time Mickey came between me and Ian. Ian quit working at the DQ that night and never came back. He got a job working evenings at some shitty corner store back in the neighborhood. He didn’t want to talk, and he never bothered to call me to hang out even one time for almost two weeks. He just kept giving me excuses about how his phone battery was about to die or he never bothered to answer at all, saying he wasn’t allowed to have his phone out at work. By the third week, I was done with his bullshit……

****

“Ian, open the goddamn door before I kick your ass!” Mandy pounded on the heavy wood door with her fist. When her hand got tired, she kicked it with her boot.

“Motherfucker! There’d better be a god damn fire out here…” Lip yelled as he yanked the door open, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. His long brown curls were standing straight up on the top of his head and he was wielding the baseball bat that usually hung on the wall at the bottom of the stairs, ready to swing. “Who the hell is … _Mandy?”_

Mandy stepped away from the door and smiled sweetly, as if she hadn't just been pounding on the front door at 2 in the morning a second earlier. “Hi, Lip. Ian home?” 

He tossed the bat behind the door, and scrubbed his hands down his face. He waved a hand to let her pass.

“Shit… I don’t know, I thought he’d be with you. What time is it? What are you doing here anyway? And why the fuck are you pounding on the door?” He motioned her over to the couch, falling exhausted onto the cushion beside her.

“We sort of had a fight. I just came to make up.”

“Is that how you make up, by threatening to kick his ass?” He laughed. She was definitely a Milkovich through and through. “So, what was this little lover’s quarrel about anyway? Ian forget your anniversary or some shit?” He closed his eyes and laid his head back, ready to pass out right there. 

Mandy frowned and considered what he’d said, “You don’t think Ian and I are… dating… do you?” Lip peeked up at her, curious about the answer. “I am _not_ dating your brother! We’re just friends! He’s g…” 

She cut herself short before she outed her best friend without his permission.

“He’s what?”

“He’s got other people he’s interested in.” She said, hoping she sounded convincing enough.

Lip laughed, “You’re a good friend, you know that? If by other people, you mean people with dicks, I already know – my brother’s gay. I was just fucking with you.”

“Jesus, Lip!” She socked his arm and pushed him, “I didn’t know he told anyone else.”

“He didn’t. I think we’ve always known, you know. Didn’t you?”

She nodded, “Yeah, I guess I did. There was that one time in 5th grade I tried to kiss him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin trying to get away from me. I swear I thought he was going to actually punch me when I cornered him. After that, it was little things, like his Justin Timberlake phase.”

“Oh, yeah, and what about that time he won that My Little Pony at the pier and got all butt hurt when Debbie took it from him.” Lip offered.

“That should have been a dead giveaway – it was Rainbow. He was pissed at Debbie for a month over that!” She laughed.

“You kidding me? He’s still pissed at her.” Lip laughed, getting up to leave. “Listen, make yourself at home. Go sleep on his bed if you want. Not sure when he’s getting home.” He took a glance back at Mandy when he got to the top of the stairs. Little Mandy Milkovich wasn’t so little anymore. “Hey, Mandy…”

“Yeah?” She said, looking up at him from her phone.

“You look good.” It was simple enough and mostly innocent. 

He disappeared without another word, leaving Mandy breathless and her heart racing. Lip Gallagher had finally looked at her! Where the fuck was her best friend when she needed him! She texted Ian nonstop the next day – if his phone battery was going to die, she was sure as shit going to be the reason – until he finally gave in and called her. They didn’t even have to talk about the incident with Mickey; Mandy went straight into telling Ian how Lip had said she looked good and drilled him on what he thought it meant. Before the night was over, they were lying side by side on his twin-size bed drinking a bottle of vodka she’d stolen from her brother’s room. They talked late into the night forgetting all about Mickey and the trouble he had caused.


	6. Chapter 6

MANDY: Freshman year was a wash and semi-forgettable. By 10th grade, Ian had joined JROTC and I picked up a new after school job at a fast food restaurant closer to home. While Ian hadn’t declared his undying desire for dick to the world yet, he had officially come out to me and to his family. We decided, since everyone thought we were dating anyway, we would just go ahead and keep up the facade. I was his beard, and he was my knight in shining armor who warded off the assholes. It worked for both of us, and it kept my brothers off Ian’s ass.

Mickey, had lost all patients with Ian by then, and for the first time since we’d become friends, he started telling Ian to go the fuck home anytime he was over. Mickey never had any real proof that Ian was gay, to begin with, but I know he had started to suspect it. The night of the fight, he’d only seen Ian talking to that guy behind the Dairy Queen, but that’s all they had been doing – talking – and Ian still swore that he had no idea what had set Mickey off……

***

Ian tossed his gym back onto the bleachers and sat, pulling his foot up onto the bench in front of him. He slipped on one of his new running shoes and began running the laces into each eyelet. He peered up fall athletes stretching out on the field, but instead caught a glimpse of Mickey leaning against the fence just a few rows below him. Ian rolled his eyes. He kind of hated Mickey, though he couldn't argue that there was something undeniably magnetic about Mickey too. If it wasn’t for his shitty arrogance, Mickey might be tolerable, but he had a way of always leaving Ian feeling unnerved and frustrated no matter how short their encounters. Ian looked back at the laces and tried to avoid looking at Mickey again, but he couldn’t help take a peek up every few seconds.

Mickey, on the other hand, was looking only at Ian. Even with two giggling dimwits hanging off his arms, Ian had his full attention. Ian started on the second shoe, working the laces into the loops, glancing up periodically at the boys on the field and doing his best to appear indifferent to Mickey’s presence. When he dared another look at Mickey, he was doing _that thing..._ the thing that drove Ian crazy, both in a good and bad way... Mickey was just looking back at him pensively, and biting his damn lip. The heat rose up the back of Ian's neck and his heart started beating a little faster. He looked away quickly, but not before he caught the slightest smirk Mickey had given him. He knew Mickey was doing this on purpose.

Mickey took a few steps to the right, putting himself directly between Ian line of vision and the field. The next time Ian looked up, Mickey was right there looking back at him. They stared at one another, eye to eye for a few seconds, Ian fiddling uselessly with his laces, and Mickey pulling in his thick luscious round bottom lip in between his teeth again. Ian’s gaze followed those lips, captivated. He caught his breath when Mickey’s tongue peeked out for just a second as it had a done a million times, licked those thick. pink. lips. making Ian wish he knew what they tasted like. Ian’s tight jaw loosened and his own lips parted as Mickey’s lips curled up at the corners, leaving Ian flustered to his core. He looked up, meeting Mickey’s gaze. Mickey raised a curious brow, and Ian froze as panic flashed through him.

 _Fuck!! Ian! Get it together! Do NOT fucking look at Mickey Milkovich like that!!_  
  
Ian looked away quickly, the flush rising up his cheeks a dead giveaway to what he was thinking; and if that wasn't enough his dick was on the verge of blowing that whistle loud and clear. He knew it and so did Mickey, but there was nothing Ian could do to control nature. He tucked his head low, keeping his eyes glued to the shoe in front of him, tying and retying the laces again. He took a deep, slow breath, determined to ignore Mickey, willing him to go away.

Mickey pushed the two girls off him, both pouting as he waved them away, promising a little fun later. Ian tried to ignore him, glancing up quickly, and half hoping Mickey was leaving too, but there was that other half that was hoping he wasn’t.  
  
He wasn’t. Mickey leaned back against the fence and waited for Ian to look him. At last, Ian caved. He gave Mickey the most disapproving scowl he could muster up, but it only made Mickey chuckle.

“See something you like, Gallagher?” Mickey glanced over his shoulder at the guys on the field, then back down at himself as if he were the only real option, and finally back up at Ian. “Why you keep looking?”

“Fuck you, Mickey.” Ian snapped, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt.

Mickey pushed off the fence and took the bleacher steps two at a time until he was standing just a step lower than Ian. Ian continued to fidget with his shoes, beads of sweat starting to form on the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure if it was the threat of Mickey coming after him, or just having Mickey standing that close to him, but Ian’s blood pressure spiked. It took just a few seconds before he realized Mickey was only _standing_ there, doing nothing else threatening or otherwise.

Mickey looked at him curiously. The little freckled face kid with the crazy red curls was long gone. The Ian sitting in front of Mickey now still had a million freckles, but they had faded into a creamy complexion. His face was longer, with long red lashes and pink cupid bowed lips. The crazy curls on the top of his head were gone now, replaced by a coifed, clean cut, but his hair was still as red as fire. Ian wasn't looking up at Mickey, but Mickey knew well enough that his eyes were green with a tinge of blue that came out more on cloudy days.

“That an offer?” Mickey asked quietly, raising that one curious brow and keeping his eyes on Ian.

Ian stopped moving. His hands tightening into fists as he peered cautiously up through his lashes to gauge Mickey's next move. He expected Mickey to throw the first punch, but Mickey was still just standing there, relaxed with his thumbs hanging from his front pockets, not looking one bit like he was ready to go to war. Ian didn’t answer.

Mickey turned a little and looked back down at the field. “Like the view here.”

Again, Ian was uncertain – was that a statement or a question? His heart was pounding so hard now, and he couldn't take much more of Mickey’s game, so he did the only thing he could do - He sat up tall, coming eye to eye with Mickey, and was about ready to ask him exactly what he was getting at, when Mandy came walking up.

“Fuck off, Mickey.” She called out as she climbed the bleacher steps, assuming he was up to no good and trying to start shit with Ian as usual.

Mickey and Ian continued to look at one another as she came closer. If Mickey had been challenging or threatening him, there was no sign of it on his face. His eyes were clear and curious, looking right into Ian as if he was still waiting for an answer to that initial question – _That an offer?_

Mandy pushed Mickey aside and took the seat right below Ian where Mickey had been standing.

“Jesus fuck, bitch. You on your rag or something? I didn’t do shit to him. We were just having a little chat... and enjoying the view.” He raised his middle finger in the air as he bound down the stairs. “Later, Gallagher. You know where to find me if you got a problem.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=pfLzBmuRJMc&feature=share

The door to the Kash n Grab swung open, hitting a rack of candy bars against the wall and jolting Ian's attention from the magazine he was reading.

“You got any Slim Jim’s up in this shithole?” Mickey asked. He walked in, a shit-eating grin on his face, and scanned the store to see who else was there. Just an old lady who was busy inspecting tomatoes, turning them over in her hand and sniffing them, then putting them back with a disapproving look.

“How the fuck do you pick a tomato by smelling it?” he asked absently as he parked himself at the counter in front of Ian. Mickey leaned across the counter on his elbows to see if there was anyone else working back there.

Ian watched Mickey as he took note of the cameras around the store, and hoped Mickey didn’t notice they were all missing the little red light that indicated they were actually working. He was positive Mickey was just there to rob the place.

“What do you want, Mickey?” Ian asked indifferently. He sat back on his stool, arms crossed and patience running thin. If he was about to get robbed, he just wanted to get on with it already. At least Ian knew he was safe from being shot by Mickey… probably.

“The fuck you gotta be so rude for, Gallagher? Mandy told me you were working in this dump,” he grabbed a Snickers from where it had fallen onto the floor when he’d come in, “thought I’d stop by to see if you get employee discounts.” 

He tore open the Snickers, smiling smugly as he took a bite, chewing it like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. “ _Mmmm_ … sweet.” 

Ian didn’t react. He just kept looking at Mickey with that same uninterested stare, waiting to see what other bullshit Mickey had in mind. The old lady finally gave up on the fresh tomatoes and brought up a can of stewed tomatoes to the counter instead. She made her way around Mickey cautiously, looking between him and Ian, then excusing herself as she squeezed her way to the counter. At last Ian took his eyes off Mickey so he could ring her up. She moved as slow as she possibly could, counting out the exact change she owed him in coins. Ian glanced up once at Mickey, who seemed highly entertained by the mundanity of it all. He was practically mocking Ian with the grin on his face as he watched the old lady finish counting pennies. At last, Ian bagged her tomatoes and she turned around, bumping into Mickey with a surprise. He took a step back and cordially reached around to hold the door open for her as she left.

She hadn’t gone a full step passed him when he announced, “Jesus, fuck, I thought that old bitch was gonna drop dead right here, slow as she was moving.” He looked back, and Ian was once again cross-armed, looking at him impatiently now.

“So, no discount… got it.” Mickey said, rolling his eyes. He tossed the empty Snicker’s wrapper onto the counter, then eyed the rest of the candy and settled on a pack of Altoids. He looked at them curiously, then back at Ian, “Ever get a blow job with one of these?”

He was hoping for a reaction from Ian, but got nothing. Thankfully the heat that had rushed up the back of Ian’s neck at Mickey’s unexpected question hadn’t forsaken him. Mickey pocketed the Altoids and gave up.

“All right fuckhead… not in the mood to chat, I see. Catch you later then, Gallagher.” 

Ian took a deep breath, releasing all sorts of conflicting feelings and frustrations that were rushing through him. Much as Mickey might be nice to look at - _god, he was so nice to look at -_ Ian was becoming concerned with all the fishing comments he’d been getting from him lately. He watched Mickey saunter slowly across the street, hitting the front of a car and flipping off the driver who had to screech to a stop to keep from hitting him. 

It just didn’t make sense, Ian thought. After the incident at the Dairy Queen, Ian had hoped he’d fallen off Mickey’s radar, and things were finally returning to their general state of uncomfortable silences between them. What was with all the sudden interest and chat sessions lately? Ian was sure it was a trap – Mickey had to be setting him up for failure, and one little slip up on Ian’s end would confirm what Mickey probably suspected all along – then Ian would get the beat down of his life. Sure, he might be able to take Mickey in a fair fight, one on one, but if Mickey really wanted to send a message, he’d bring his brothers as well. There was no way Ian could take more than one Milkovich at a time. He’d just have to do his best to stay clear of them, that’s all there was to it. How hard could it be to just stay out of their path? 

Ian picked up the candy that had fallen to the floor, then pulled a few dollars from his pocket and paid for the candy Mickey had taken. He grabed an extra can of Altoids for himself… _The Curiously Strong Mint._

“Hmmm?” he pondered.


	8. Chapter 8

MANDY: When Ian first told me that Mickey might be stalking him, I thought he was imagining things. Mickey had long forgotten their little fight, whatever that had been, and didn’t give two fucks about Ian. The only things Mickey cared about was getting high or find some bitch who was desperate enough to fuck him. Besides, he was too fucking lazy to follow Ian around town. I could tell by the look Ian was giving me that he didn’t believe me, and to be honest, I when I started noticing Mickey popping up more often, I wasn’t sure I believed me either………

***

Mandy rounded the bleachers and rolled her eyes when she saw Mickey there with his legs up on the bench, smoking a cigarette.

“You know, I think they can actually arrest you for loitering if you're not a student, right?”

Mickey waited for her to take a seat, then blew smoke in her face, making her cough. He looked back in the direction she had come, expecting Ian to be close behind. 

“Seriously, Mickey… why are you here?” 

“Football team needs me.” 

She couldn’t really argue that – everyone knew half the team was doped up and Mickey was their dealer. Even the coaches scored from him, so they weren’t about to run him off either, but they had never been dumb enough to make their deals right out in the open. She knew he was being ridiculous and scoffed, and he ignored her as usual.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” He asked, trying to sound indifferent. 

“What girlfriend?” Mandy knew he was talking about Ian, but Mickey had never asked about Ian in the past, and now it made her wonder if Ian had been right. Maybe Mickey was stalking him.

“You know what fucking girlfriend I’m talking about, bitch. Don’t act stupid.” He kicked a leg out, hitting her in the thigh.

“Ow! Ass! Why do you care where Ian is anyway? His brother owe you money or something?” 

Mickey didn’t answer. He looked back out at the players on the field. A couple glanced his way, giving him a nod of their head or a coy smile. He didn’t worry too much about it; as far as anyone was concerned, they were just dumb asses who enjoyed the services he provided. It was nobody’s business to know exactly what services those were, or that a few of them had _serviced_ Mickey as means of payment. He jutted his leg into Mandy's thigh once more, just to push her buttons. She smacked his leg hard enough to bruise and flipped him off, which earned her an even harder kick.   
  
“You’re a fucking child, you know that?” She scolded, grabbing her backpack to leave.

"I'm just fucking with you, lighten up," he laughed.

“I’m outta here.” There was no point waiting another hour for Ian if Mickey was just going to taunt her the entire time. She sent him at text letting him know she'd meet up with him later.

“Aw, come on, Mandy, you don’t wanna keep me company?” He kicked his foot out once more, just catching her leg, and she turned and punched him in his thigh making him grunt and laugh as she left. “I’ll let your girlfriend know you left without him. Maybe I’ll give him a ride home so he doesn’t have to walk alone.”

“Ian’s perfectly capable of…” she stopped talking, knowing she was just playing into his game. “You know what, just fuck off, Mickey.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of covering for his faggot ass?” 

That stopped her in her tracks. For the first time, he knew by the look on her face that all the digging he’d been doing to get to the truth about Ian Gallagher had finally paid off. There was no lie in Mandy’s face, for just a split second, but it was enough. She quickly recovered and glared at him with disgust - the normal loving look Mickey was used to.

“Go fuck yourself.” She said, barely missing a beat.

Nope. That was definitely a job he was saving for Ian fucking Gallagher. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfjTZLxekig

The big rival football game was being played on the home field – or as Iggy liked to call it, on Milkovich turf. All 4 brothers hit the stands that night, stocked and ready to do business. If there was one thing they could depend on, it was a friendly family south side event to guarantee big sales, and the cool fall night allowed Mickey to layer up, hoody, jacket, maybe a pair of fingerless gloves, with plenty of pockets to keep the goods stashed away. 

Mandy walked into the stadium arm in arm with Ian, flashing a cheeky smile to boys who gave her the slightest attention, and dealing deadly looks to the girls who so much as turned a head in Ian’s direction. “What. The. Fuck are you looking at? Turn the fuck around!” she’d threatened. Yep, that Milkovich blood was strong in this one, Ian laughed to himself. High school football games weren’t normally their scene, but Ian’s JROTC Drill Team was performing at half time, so he showed up fully pressed and polished, ready for the show. They took their time, making their way to seats near the marching band – not the coolest place to sit, but the required meet-up spot for everyone in JROTC.   
  
Like a beacon in the dark, the flash of Ian’s red hair in the crowded stands caught Mickey’s attention the second he walked in. “Fuck…” Mickey exhaled, as he watched Ian face lit up with laughter and that sharp, pressed suit. He took Mickey’s breath away. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off of him. Ian was a tall drink of water and Mickey had a thirst that was begging to be quenched. Mickey bit at his lip, then forced himself to look away before one of them caught him staring, but against his better judgment, he couldn’t help but turn for one last look. 

“Mick! Yo, Mickey!” Mickey turned as Iggy coming running up the steps. “Mandy just got here. I stuck the extra shit in her bag in case we needed it. You want me to go get it from her?” Iggy said loudly, not giving two shits about all the people listening around him. Mickey flicked his finger hard against Iggy’s skull, “Ow, fuck!”

“You’re a dumb fuck… you know that?” Mickey shook his head at his idiot brother. “You fucking realize they check bags at the gate, right? Jesus Christ.”  
“Oh, shit, I forgot.” Iggy said, still rubbing at his head.   
  
“I’ll get it, dumb ass. You’re fucking lucky the cops didn’t grab her for that shit.”

“Sorry, Mickey. I wasn’t thinking, man…” Iggy called as Mickey him standing alone. 

He kept his eye out for any rent-a-cops as he made his way to Mandy. So far, so good, since none of them seemed to be hanging out in her section of the stands. 

“Hey, Mandy,” he called out, taking the bleacher steps two at a time.

The smile on Ian’s face faded at the sight of Mickey, and all his cocky confidence seemed to go with it. “Great. What’s he doing here?”

Mandy rolled her eyes, tired of the constant conflict between the two of them. Ian knew exactly why Mickey was there – business. Mickey only ever left the house for a handful of reasons: good food, good fuck, good drugs, or good money. He waited for some onslaught of insults from Mickey, but quickly realized Mickey was on a mission. 

“Gimme your bag,” Mickey snapped his fingers impatiently then reached to grab Mandy’s purse when she didn’t move fast enough.

“No! What are you doing?” She said, trying to pull it away from him.

“Just… fucking Iggy.” He growled. That was all he needed to say. She knew exactly what it meant. He still hadn’t looked in Ian’s direction, but rather completely ignored him, lest he should be caught staring at how great Ian looked in his uniform. His lack of attention didn’t go unnoticed; Ian was used to getting attention from Mickey in one way or the other, good or bad, and being ignored by him left Ian feeling just the slightest bit offended. 

“Are you shitting me?” Mandy said, looking around nervously for any cops who might be nearby, “The fuck was he thinking?”

“I don’t know! Just give me your fucking purse before something happens. You get fingered for that shit and dad’ll kill every last fucking one of us.” 

He dug deep, looking for the small folded bits of paper that Iggy had tucked at the bottom of her bag, then pushed them into his coat pocket. When he was sure it was all cleared out, he tossed her bag. Mandy snatched it from ground and brushed off the dirt, “You guys are a bunch of fucking idiots.”  
  
“Oh, shut the fuck up, princess. It’s gone now, ok?” Mickey finally looked at Ian. Ian was looking directly back, and though Mickey couldn’t be sure, Ian seemed to catch his breath for a second. Ian could have said the same about Mickey, since that was exactly what had happened. 

“Hi, Mick.” He said quietly… almost friendly… almost like he wanted to say something else, but his mouth had gone dry and those were the only words he had.

Mickey nodded, still holding Ian’s gaze, “Gallagher.” He might have said more, if he could get his brain and mouth to work together, but like Ian, Mickey’s mouth had gone dry again. He swallowed, his eyes still on Ian’s. It was fast, nothing Mandy found out of the ordinary, and it left both of them wondering later if that moment had really happened between them, or if they were just lost in their own fantasies. Whatever it was, it ended abruptly when the marching band and drill team stood to their feet and started filing out of the stadium to prepare for the half time show. Ian looked away first and when he looked back, Mickey was already headed in the opposite direction. 

“I’ll catch up with you after half time.” Ian followed his drill team out, taking one last glance behind him, and caught Mickey looking back at him before he disappeared.

\-----------------------

The Geek Squad, as Mickey referred to them, converged by the locker rooms after their halftime performance and continued to cheer themselves on for a job well done. Mickey rolled his eyes, holding back the urge to go stuff half of them into a locker someplace, chuckling at the idea that most of them would like return to the stands in their little group, wearing their ridiculous outfits like the fucking little weirdos they were, then masturbate themselves to sleep over the fucking awesome Saturday night out they had. It was a fucking waste of a good orgasm in Mickey’s opinion. 

He watched the Geek Squad flutter about, looking for one in particular who seemed to be missing from the group. As the last of them wandered into the hallway, Mickey caught a flash of Ian’s red hair entering. He had his wooden rifle hanging across the back of his shoulders, his hands draped over them, as he came in. He was walking with another student in the same uniform, listening attentively, and making way more eye contact with the guy than Mickey found necessary. A jealous heat went through Mickey. He nudged at his nose with his thumb, a sure sign of his annoyance, and almost stepped out from his corner to interrupting their conversation, but the moment he had shared with Ian out on the stands had unnerved him. Now twenty minutes later, Mickey couldn’t be sure there had been a connection at all, and now, looking at the way Ian was looking at this other guy, Mickey was sure it had been nothing at all.   
  
He glanced around the crowd impatiently, then back at Ian, hoping he would break away so they could maybe pick up where they had left off, but Ian didn’t break away. He and his fake army buddy made their way to the other side of the crowd. Mickey didn’t like they way they were standing. He didn’t like the way Ian cocked his head just a little as he listened to that fucker talking. He didn’t like the little grin that was affixed to Ian’s face or the way he never broke eye contact with the guy. He didn’t like the way Ian threw his head back and laughed loud enough for Mickey to hear it from where he was standing, and he sure as shit didn’t like the way the guy reached out and touched Ian’s arm. Mickey shuffled his feet, and took in a deep impatient breath. He nudged his nose, he looked away and told himself ‘fuck it!’ but then he looked back. He fisted his hands, then loosened them and told himself to walk away.   
  
Mickey took two steps in the opposite direction, then looked back at Ian and saw him lean in to whisper something in the fucking dead guy’s ear. Then Mickey tightened his fists and bit at his lip as he was wont to do right before he kicked a motherfucker’s ass. He scratched at his head, telling himself to just walk away – he could deal with Ian and his bullshit another day, but then it happened. The guy nodded toward the locker room and Ian’s grin turned feral. He licked at his lips and nodded, and it sent a fucking fire straight to Mickey’s brain. 

The guy disappeared into the locker room first, but a new kid stepped up right away getting Ian’s attention. This conversation was different; Mickey could tell by the way Ian was talking and looking toward the locker room that he was impatient and trying to cut is short, but the new guy kept talking. Mickey took advantage of the situation and headed hallway that led to the coach’s offices, a back door to the locker room.   
  
He stopped briefly when he saw Ian’s 1st Sgt in the crowd, “Hey, Private, Gallagher was looking for you a minute ago. I think I saw him over by the water fountains.” Mickey lied, buying himself a little extra time. The 1st Sgt frowned at Mickey for the Private comment, then thanked him and headed out to find Ian. Mickey headed into the locker room. He didn’t have to look hard – he knew exactly where dirty boys went to do dirty boy things – he’d been there before. He walked to the back of the room, past the showers, and around a corner into the janitor’s closet.

“What took you so long?” Rambo Retard already had his pants down around his ankle, his dick at full attention in his hand, and a stupid fucking smile on his face that faded the second he saw Mickey standing there. He barely had a chance to truly fear for his life when the first punch landed . 

“The… fuck… you… doing…!” Mickey punctuated each word with a punch or a kick. “fucking... little... cunt! You need to keep your fucking dick in your pants, you got it?” Mickey landed a few more blows, then kicked him in the ass with his boot, leaving a bruise that would keep him from sitting comfortably for at least two weeks. The guy rolled around on the floor moaning. Mickey peeked out the door to make sure no one was coming, then knelt down low so he could speak into the guy’s ear, “I hear shit about this from anyone, and I guaranfuckintee you’ll be seeing me again, got it?” 

The guy whimpering as he cowered in the fetal position and nodded, making sure not to make eye contact with Mickey. He knew better than to cross the Milkovich’s, so someone found him still curled up and bleeding in the closet a few minutes later, he never said a word about Mickey.

Mickey grabbed a rag on his way out to wipe the blood from his knuckles, then shoved it into his pocket to throw away outside the locker room. He left the closet door wide open, and rubbed at his swelling knuckles as he slipped back out the door he had entered in earlier. Ian was still out there, his 1st Sgt talking his ear off with another two cadets, and Ian looking as though he had resigned any hope he’d had of hooking up.   
  
Ian caught sight of Mickey as he passed by, barely catching his eye before he disappeared into the stands. That familiar deadly glare left Ian wondering what poor bastard had pissed him off, and was glad it hadn’t been him.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=VeBfu5syH0s&feature=share

Word spread quickly about the cadet who’d been caught with his pants down in the locker room. Dozens of students, including Ian, circled around as the 1st Sgt and another instructor helped the kid to his feet, practically dragging him from the closet with his pants still hanging down around his ankles When another student tried to step up to help him pull his pants up. 

What did pique Ian’s suspicion were the bruises he saw on Mickey’s knuckles over the next week. It wasn’t the first time Mickey he’d seen Mickey bruised or cut from a fight, but this time Mickey made it a point to keep his hands where Ian could see them any time he was around. Ian began to wonder if Mickey was doing it on purpose, or if he was just being paranoid, like Mandy had said. He decided on paranoid, and told himself he just needed to stop allowing Mickey Milkovich to get inside his head all the time.  
\------------   
It was easier than Ian had expected, pushing Mickey out of his head – Mandy was hooking up with some new guy, which meant Ian was spending less time hanging around the Milkovich house each afternoon, and that meant fewer run ins with her brother. On top of that, Ian was picking up extra shifts at the store which took most of his free time. He spent that time studying in hopes of bringing his GPA up so he could qualify for a better job assignment when he left to the military after high school. That was still two years away, but every grade counted.   
  
When Ian did talk to Mandy, asking who her new boyfriend was, all she said was “I don’t wanna talk about it. I really like this one, you know? I’m afraid if I start getting too excited, I’ll jinx it… but I promise you, he’s a good guy. You’ll like him.” He didn’t make too much of a fuss over her secrecy, given he’d only told her about half the guys he screwed around with. Instead, he decided it was to his advantage that someone was keeping her from texting him all night long, so he could focus on his school work.

It was well after midnight one night when he walked home after closing the store. He was freezing from the icy winds that had blown in a storm and just wanted to warm up in a long, hot shower, but as he neared the house, he saw Lip and Mickey on his front steps. They were passing a joint between them and talking, which was unusual, given the two men were barely friendly to one another, but it all seemed very amicable at that moment. A few seconds later Lip went inside the house and Mickey followed. Ian took the opportunity to go around to the back door, and sneak in through the kitchen, avoiding Mickey altogether. 

“Make yourself at home. I’ll just be a minute.” Lip said, leaving Mickey alone in the living room.   
  
The house was dark as Ian slipped through the back door, hoping not to draw any attention to himself, but Mickey was headed his way. Ian stepped into the shadows, behind the bathroom door, standing as quietly as he could. Mickey opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, drinking down half of it before he grabbed another and closed the door again. But he didn’t leave the room. He just stood with his back to Ian, looking at the bulletin board hanging on the side of the fridge. Ian crept from behind the door, and stepped quietly toward the stairwell. When Mickey still didn’t turn around, Ian hopped up the first step, then took them three at a time until he reached the top. 

So fucking stupid, he thought to himself. It was his damn house! Why should he act like he wasn’t there? Ian started to silently reprimand himself for hiding, building up his bravado now that he was nowhere near Mickey. It was stupid because Ian had no reason to avoid Mickey. For the most part, things had been as normal as ever between them – or at least the new normal, where Mickey turned up everywhere Ian went and eyed him suspiciously. Ian was building himself up again, telling himself he didn’t give a fuck if Mickey was in his house and he should be able to walk around anywhere he wanted – IT WAS HIS GOD DAMN HOUSE – when he heard the front door slam closed. Fuck! 

Ian headed down the back stairs, somewhat disappointed he’d missed the opportunity to face Mickey in his own house – he would have put Mickey in his god damn place…

“Mickey! What are you doing here?” Ian blurted out as he rounded the corner into the kitchen. 

“You knew I was here, Gallagher. You were standing right fucking there when I came in here for a beer.” He said, pointing at the back door.

“I heard the front door… I thought you left.” Fuck! Why did he say that!? He knew it looked weak, but it was too late, he couldn’t take it back. “Where’s Lip?”

“Ran Mandy home real quick. He’ll be back in a few. He‘s gonna help me take care of something… wanna come along?” 

Mickey took a drink of his beer and a few steps toward Ian. Ian backed up a little with every step he took.

Mickey raked his eyes slowly down Ian’s torso, licking droplets of beer from his lip as he took a few more steps. Ian backed up a little more.

“What’s a matter, Gallagher? Cat got your tongue?” he asked with a lift of his brows as he kept moving in closer. 

Ian felt the words stutter in his brain before they ever fumbled over his lips, “N-n-no. I-I-I just uh…“ 

Mickey took the last few steps, backing Ian up against the wall. He came dangerously close to Ian and took another sip of his beer, keeping his eyes locked on Ian’s lips. Another step and he would literally be skin to skin with Ian, but he didn’t close the distance. Ian could tell he was drunk or high or both, and an intoxicated Milkovich was the most dangerous kind there was. All the bravado he’d built up in his room was gone… but he wasn’t sure that the vibe he was getting from Mickey was exactly meant to be threatening.

Mickey licked his lips and looked up into Ian’s eyes, and it was at that exact moment that Ian realized there was nothing threatening about the message Mickey was sending him... but it was unfuckingbelievable nonetheless! 

Mickey reached forward with his beer in hand and tugged at Ian’s collar, but before Ian could register what was happening or make a move, the front door opened.

“Mickey, you ready?” 

Mickey stepped back at lightning speed and walked toward the living room without so much as a glance back at Ian.

“Yep. Let’s get the fuck outta here.”

The front door slammed and the sound of Mickey’s tires squealing in the wet snow and the overwhelming pounding of Ian’s heart throbbing inside of him were the only sounds Ian heard.

“What the fuck just happened?”


	11. Chapter 11

MANDY: So, this is where the story takes a weird-ass turn. Ian called me twenty minutes after I got home that night, fucking frantic and going off on me about Lip! I had no choice but to finally admit that yes, Lip was the guy I’d been seeing, and I spent the next twenty minutes trying to convince Ian that Lip wasn’t the total asshole we had both made him out to be for all those years. I’m positive I didn’t change Ian’s opinion, but I did say one thing that at least made him stop arguing with me, 

“Ian, I’d completely understand your concern if it was my brother. Mickey couldn’t change if his fucking life depended on it… but it’s not Mickey… It’s Lip. He’s in college now, doing really well and trying really hard to do something better with his life. Eventually, he had to grow up… why can’t I be a part of that?” I think Ian could appreciate that Lip was changing.

One good thing that came from all of it – now that the cat was out of the bag, Lip and I no longer had to sneak around when I went over…………

***

Ian waited in the alley for Mandy to enter the back door of his house, then he took off running for the Milkovich house. Mandy, Iggy, and Mickey were the last of the Milkovich kids still living there, and of course their dad Terry, but Ian hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Terry in months. Probably broke parole or some shit, Ian assumed. It was late enough in the evening that Ian was sure Iggy was either gone to his girlfriend’s for the night or passed out – rarely had Ian seen Iggy awake past nine o’clock. Mickey, on the other hand, was a night owl, but Ian was hoping the recent snow had Mickey staying indoors for the night.

He knocked on the door, almost a tap really, and waited. He could see the blue glow of a TV screen through the dark curtains, so he knocked again.

“Just open the fucking door already!” Iggy called. Ian dropped his head disappointed. He’d have to go straight to Plan B which was basically him pretending he was there to see Mandy then leaving.

Ian walked in and found Iggy laying on the couch half asleep with his gun pointed at the door.

“Whoa, shit! Don’t shoot!” Ian held up his hands to show Iggy it was just him.

Iggy dropped his head back and tossed his gun onto the table. “Don’t worry. It’s not loaded. Just didn’t know who the fuck was knocking at this time of night.” Iggy closed his eyes again, “Mandy’s not home. You can wait for her if you want, but don’t fuckin’ talk to me… need to sleep.” 

He’d hardly finished his sentence before Ian heard a loud snore escape him. Back to Plan A.

Ian tossed his jacket on the chair then looked around the house for a bottle of liquid courage – there was always something hard to drink out, and this time the Milkovich house did not disappoint. He grabbed a fifth of tequila sitting on the table, its label not even broken yet. He fucking hated tequila, but if there was ever a time to start making bad decisions tonight was the night. He turned the lid, breaking the seal and began to drink. And drink. And drink.

If he didn’t puke before he followed through on this plan he’d be just as surprised as anyone. He breathed out a fiery exhale and held down the urge to gag, then threw the bottle back and took another long drink. Good… that was good. Well, it was actually terrible, but now he could feel the fire of the alcohol coursing through him, and it would only be a matter of minutes before it sparked that courage he needed.

Nope, wrong… it didn’t take minutes at all. Slightly less than two seconds, actually. Ian took one look at the “Stay the Fuck Out!” sign on Mickey’s door, and that flame of courage ran straight from his head down to his toes, and every inch in between, including his dick.

I’ll go where ever the fuck I please, Ian told himself, taking one last gulp for good measure. “Let’s do this.”

The house was filled with the sounds of the wind howling and creaking through its bones, of Iggy’s snoring loudly, and some car chase scene coming from the TV, but the teeny tiny squeak that came from Mickey’s door as Ian slipped inside seemed louder than all the rest in his head. He closed the door as quietly as he could once inside, blocking out almost every bit of light, but Ian could still see Mickey laying there on his belly with only his boxers and a wife-beater on. Plan A went straight out of Ian's head at the sight of the .45 sitting on the nightstand beside Mickey. One false move and Ian realized he was likely to get shot.

“shit…. shitshitshitshit.” Mickey stirred in his bed, and Ian panicked as he realized he’d said that out loud. Make a move, Gallagher, before you get your fucking head blown off. He took a step toward the bed, his hand shaking as he reached out and nudged Mickey’s leg.

“Mick… Mickey…” he whispered. He shook Mickey at his thigh a little harder, "Mickey!"

“huh…whaaaa…” he grumbled rolling onto his back, “The fuck are you waking me up for, Ig?”  
There was no backing out ... the bear was fucking awake now! Ian stood back, his eyes finally adjusted fully to the dark room when Mickey opened his eyes and saw who he was talking to. Mickey sat up fast.

“The fuck, Gallagher! Where the fuck is Mandy? She ok?” 

Ian shushed him, not wanting to wake Iggy again, and waved his hands out in front of him. Even in his own head, his shushing sounds were slurred and drawn out, but he kept at it, trying to keep Mickey calm. Ian took a step forward, tripping slightly on a shoe in the middle of the floor and waving his arm in the air for balance, but his sudden movement combined with the half bottle of tequila he'd started this little escapade with caught up with him and he stumbled sideways into the dresser. 

“Ouch, shit!” An empty beer bottle among other things fell off the dresser, hitting him in the head. Ian tried to grab for purchase in the dark and somehow managed to knock down even more shit as he fell sideways again, this time he hit the wall and pulled down one of Mickey’s titty posters as he hit the floor. 

In the corner of his eye, he saw Mickey get up and come for him. Ian rolled instinctively into a ball, then swung his fist out in the dark to ward off the attack. His fist grazed Mickey’s chest. Mickey grabbed his arm and quickly pinned him down. He could smell the booze on Ian’s breath and was about to make an exception this one time and not kill Ian for sneaking in on him, but Ian didn't know that. He was still playing defense – he wasn’t ready to die just yet. 

Ian bucked his hips as hard as he could, sending Mickey into the air, then rolled and somehow managing to switch positions with Mickey for a brief second before being pushed onto his back again. Mickey kept grabbing at him in the dark, growling at him to ‘just settle the fuck down,’ but Ian still thought they were fighting, so when the opportunity presented itself, he clocked Mickey hard in the jaw. 

It was like slow motion, watching Mickey’s face take the punch, his head turning slowly, his eyes squeezing shut as the pain hit his brain, his cheek and his mouth contorting to the shape of Ian’s fist, his head slowing as it reached its full twist, then the turning back to face Ian - this must be what the world looks like right before you die, Ian had the clarity to think to himself - and when Mickey turned his head back, there was a new, angry fire burning in his eyes.

Mickey jumped onto Ian’s chest hard, knocking the air from his lungs, and squeezed his thighs around Ian’s torso making it impossible for him to catch his breath. Mickey grabbed Ian’s arms and pinned them up above his head with one of his own. Ian fought futilely, and Mickey began slapping him hard across his face, over and over and over!

“I should fucking kick your ass right now you fucking little bitch coming in my fucking room and punching me in the fucking face what the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking little prick motherfucker…” Ian had surrendered, tucking his face into Mickey's arm and stopped fighting completely. Mickey stopped short, breathing hard, with a fist lifted and ready to land a punch, but he paused as Ian began retching.

“The fuck are you doing… Gallagher, what the fuck are you doing?” Mickey pushed back, releasing Ian just enough to sit up... just in time for seven slices of pizza and the half bottle of tequila Ian had in his stomach to project itself all over Mickey and onto both of their laps with great force!

‘OH! FUUUCK ME!” Mickey screamed, but all he could do was sit with his hands dripping in front of him and stare in horror.

Ian coughed up the rest of the vomit, letting it run down his chin, too drunk to make heads or tails of the situation, then he put a hand over his face where Mickey had hit him again and again. The world faded away quickly as he fell back onto the floor and passed out.  
  
The horror! The smell! The chunks dripping down Mickey’s cheek and chest onto Ian’s lap! He jumped up keeping his hands out in front of him. He retched then turned his head away from the scene to keep himself from vomiting as well. He ran to the bathroom and turned the shower on, not even bothering to turn on a light or get undressed. As soon as the water was slightly warm he jumped in and started stripping out of his boxers and shirt, throwing them out onto the bathroom floor, gagging as more chunks of half-digested pizza fell out of his hair.

“Motherfucker!”

He grabbed the bar of Irish Spring and began scrubbing himself down, scratching at his skin and grimacing as he worked to erase every trace of vomit from his body. As it all rinsed away and he was left standing there in the shower, he stilled, with one thought in mind; Why the fuck was there a drunk Ian Gallagher in his bedroom?

When he finished cleaning the contamination from his body, he wrapped a towel around his waist and headed back to his room. Ian was still lying there, passed out with vomit painting his face and torso. The smell was overwhelming, making Mickey gag again. He nudged Ian’s thigh hard with his foot.

“Gallagher. Wake up.”

Nothing. He nudged harder, and Ian rolled over and started retching again before vomiting. He didn’t even wake up to do it, then laid his head back and started coughing.

“Fuuuuuck!” Mickey threw the towel from his waist on the floor beside Ian and rolled him sideways so he wouldn’t choke. “God damn it, Gallagher! Iggy! Get your fucking ass in here and help me!”

Nothing. Iggy and Ian were both worthless, drunk piece of shits, and Mickey wanted to kill both of them. He found a pair of sweats tossed in a corner and threw them on, then went to work, undressing Ian, cursing him then entire time. First, he removed his boots and socks, then went to unbutton his jeans.

“Thought this was gonna be a lot more fun,” Mickey grumbled.

The buttons of Ian's pants were covered in slime and pizza chunks and Mickey gagged again, this time feeling his own dinner threaten to come up the back of his throat. “Ah shit, I can’t do this… fuck this…” He wiped his hand on a corner of the towel then put his other hand over his mouth, closing his eyes and holding his breath. He knew he either had to undress Ian or drag his ass out into the snow where he couldn't stink up the place anymore - and honestly, the latter sounded more appealing at the moment.

“Ok, fuck. Let’s get this done.” He worked fast, holding his breath as he unbuttoned the pants and yanked them down Ian’s long legs. Next came the shirt. Mickey straddled Ian, “Not the way I saw this happening either,” he commented.

As much as Mickey had thought about what they would do if he ever got Ian alone in his room and naked, nothing about that situation was the slightest bit of a turn on in the least. Quite the opposite, actually. Mickey pulled the wet shirt up over Ian’s head, cradling his body close to keep him from falling back onto the floor.

“You’re a fucking mess.” He said softly as Ian snored on his shoulder.

After another minute, Mickey set him back down onto the towel and went to the kitchen for a roll of paper towels. It was the best he could do, under the circumstances. He wiped Ian down, taking care to clean around his mouth and nose while Ian snored away. He emptied Ian’s pants pockets then wrapped all the soiled clothes and paper towels up in his bath towel, and went to throw it all away. After another quick shower to wash off the new mess he’d made of himself, Mickey trudged his way back to his room.


	12. Chapter 12

It was nearly noon before Ian began his slow ascent to consciousness, like coming up from a deep, murky lake where the surface to sunshine felt a mile away. There was music somewhere, and the smell of bacon and coffee, and talking… they were voices he wasn’t used to hearing when he woke up. For a few seconds, all of it amplified as a door someplace above the surface opened, then closed. He stirred, catching his toes between stitches of an unfamiliar blanket… and finally, his brain turned up the volume on the pounding. It was like a sledgehammer… No, it was three sledgehammers, all beating away on the inside of his skull at different intervals.

“Uuuuugghhgod…” he moaned, as he finally broke the surface and the light from the window hit him like a train. He held his hand up against the glare, looking around confused, “Where am I?”

Mickey chuckled, sitting on the side of his bed, staring at the tent Ian’s dick had pitched in the blanket. Ian tried to sit up, then fell back with a thud, and groaned. Mickey sipped from the cup of coffee he had brought for Ian, laced with a double shot of whiskey… bite of a different dog, but it was sure to help.

“Here. Drink this.” Ian opened one eye and saw Mickey leaning over him with a cup and a couple of aspirin. “Probably not what you were drinking last night, but it’ll do.”

Ian sat up so fast his world spun and his head screamed in timpanis. He scooted a foot back from Mickey, eyes wide as he realized where he was.

What happened last night? All he could remember was taking off his jacket and finding the bottle of tequila… Ugh, tequila!! He felt more than saw his dick at full attention under the black and orange knitted blanket. He recognized the blanket as one Iggy was covered up with the night before.

Mickey set the cup down on the floor next to him.

“Go take a shower, you smell like shit. Hot waters on the right. Dipshit Collin installed the things backward, so be careful.” He rummaged through a pile of laundry in the corner, picking up jeans and holding them up next to himself then tossing them aside. “Doubt I have anything that’ll fucking fit your long-ass legs, but here’s a shirt.”

He tossed a gray threadbare flannel onto the bed, but Ian hadn’t moved. He just sat there with the blanket pulled up to his neck and his eyes as wide as a deer in headlights. Did they fu… shit, he couldn’t even ask himself the question, there was no way in hell he could ask Mickey. And yet, there was Mickey calm as could be, so, things couldn’t have gone half bad, Ian told himself. At last, he spoke.

“What happened to your lip?” Mickey kept searching for clothes, throwing a pair of boxers on the bed next to the shirt. “D’you get in a fight?”

Mickey turned on him, pointing at his fat, bruised and broken lip. “Oh, you mean this shit!?”

Aaah, there he was… the angry, grumpy asshole Ian was familiar with was back.

“You don’t remember, do you?” Mickey asked, accusingly. Ian shook his head… his head pounded harder as a punishment for the sudden movement.

“YOU fucking did that, asshole!” he picked a pair of jeans he knew would be too short for Ian and threw them at his face. "I should kick your ass for it. Go take a fucking shower so I can get the god damn smell of you out of my fucking room.”

He left the room, slamming the door and making Ian jump. There … right there… a tiny, itty bitty visual popped into Ian's head, but not enough to piece together a full picture. Mickey slapping him… Ian touched the side of his face, tender and sore… yep, he remembered Mickey slapping him, but why? Did they have rough sex!? Yes, that had to be it, because Mickey was straddling him and slapping him… it was all coming back now... But not really.  
  
Ian wrapped the blanket around his naked body and gathered up the clothes Mickey had given him, making his way into the bathroom. He turned on the cold and a little less of the hot water and put his hand under it, getting instantly scalded for forgetting what Mickey had said about them being reversed. He fixed the taps and waited for the temp to even out and another image came to mind – Mickey’s nose tucked gently into his ear as he held Ian close and whispered something to him... what had he said?

Ian’s morning wood, which had all but disappeared, began making an encore appearance at the thought of Mickey holding him like that. He stepped into the shower and let the water run off the back of his neck, begging for relief from the pounding in his head. He tried to remember more, but those were the only two images that he could muster up – Mickey riding on top of him, slapping him, and Mickey whispering tenderly in his ear. He had so few memories and so many questions - for instance, where were his clothes?

He leaned forward in the small shower stall, resting his head against the tiles. He hated that he’d just had his first night with Mickey Milkovich, a guy Ian would never have openly admitted to fantasizing about to anyone (he could barely admit it to himself), and yet he couldn’t remember any of the good parts. After five minutes of not moving, the bathroom door opened and made Ian jump into action, searching for the soap.

Through the opaque shower curtain, Ian could see Mickey leaning against the sink, watching him. Should he say something? Should he invite Mickey to join him? Were they at that stage yet where they could talk openly about what they’d done, or was this a one-and-done thing? Ian wasn’t sure, because he had no fucking clue what had happened.

“You wanna explain to me what the fuck you thought you were doing last night?” Mickey asked, not sounding even a tiny bit happy.

Ian stopped moving. Which part, he wanted to ask, but Mickey’s tone confused him. He almost asked if it hadn't been good for Mickey, but then he realized he didn’t even know if it was good for him, so instead, he said nothing. He just stood there silently as the shower washed away the last of the suds.

“Fine… as fucking usual, Gallagher has nothing to say. Listen, I don’t know what the fuck you thought you were doing, showing up in the middle of the fucking night like that, but you ever do that shit again and I’ll put a fucking bullet through you, capiche?” 

Mickey set something on the sink and got ready to leave. “Here's your wallet and shit. Made some pancakes and bacon if you think you can keep anything down. Hurry up before the water gets cold.”

Ian shut the water off and he waited for Mickey to leave, but Mickey hesitated.

“Altoids, huh?” Mickey asked.

“What?”

Mickey picked up the tin of Altoids he’d found in Ian’s pocket the night before and shook them as a way of clarifying.

Ian stuttered out quietly, “You said you liked them.”

There were three seconds of complete silence between them before the shower curtain flew open and Ian’s wet body crashed into Mickey’s. Who made the move first didn’t matter. They moved in a wild frenzy, pulling Mickey’s sweats off, grasping and groping in the tight space of the room. Ian slipped on the tile, knocking Mickey into the wall and catching him just in time before they both fell to the floor. He moved in as if to kiss Mickey, wanting to taste him… wanting to touch him in the way he was sure they must have touched the night before… but Mickey pushed his face back hard with an open palm and stopped him short.

“Kiss me and I’ll cut your fuckin' tongue out!” He warned. Mickey knew exactly what that mouth must taste like… shit… and he wanted no part of it.

Ian stayed still for a second, then nodded, and went back to the work at hand. His dick grew harder with his excitement as the memory of Mickey riding him the night before came to mind. Without questioning it, he flipped Mickey around to grab the sink and take his chosen position on the bottom. Who would have thought Mickey Milkovich was a fucking bottom! Was it Christmas!?

“Hold up, hold up!” Mickey said, opening the bathroom cabinet and grabbing around frantically for the Vaseline. A half dozen pill bottles, toothpaste, and a deodorant came crashing down before Mickey’s hand landed on the squeeze tube of Vaseline. Ian reached forward and grabbed it from him, and Mickey leaned into position and spread his legs.

The pounding in Ian’s head was nothing to rival the pounding of blood rushing through his heart and straight into his dick right then. He greased himself up and got another two fingers full and started working Mickey open.

“Just… hurry the fuck up!” Mickey demanded. Ian smiled… bossy little shit. He could get used to that.

He massaged Mickey open, eager to get on to the big show himself, but taking his time to open Mickey up just right, until Mickey reached for his hip and pulled him close.

“Now, bitch.”

Said last night’s bottom, Ian thought to himself with a smile. He didn't waste another second as he stepped forward and pressed his dick slowly in, watching every inch disappear. Christmas was never this fucking good.

Mickey’s grip tightened on the sink as he pressed back onto Ian. Holy hell, this was fucking better than any rubber dick he’d stuck up his ass before. They moved slowly at first, but Mickey wasn’t having it – he pushed his ass out and slapped Ian’s thigh, cueing him to give it to him good and hard. Ian didn’t disappoint. He gripped Mickey's waist and worked him over until he was breathless and groaning with every thrust.

When they were done, Ian fell forward, gripping the sink just above Mickey’s hands as he pulled out, and resting his forehead on Mickey’s back as they caught their breath. After a few seconds, he said,

“Fuck… that was even better than last night… you know, ‘cause at least I’m sober enough to remember it this time.” He chuckled.

Mickey straightened up then, pushing Ian to stand up along behind him. He deadpanned Ian in the mirror, looking slightly outraged.

“Are you fucking shitting me right now??” He yelled.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=7diMj4os0Go&feature=share

MANDY: Things started to change after I started dating Lip. I’m not sure if Ian was trying to keep me away from Lip, but we started spending a lot more time at my house instead of the Gallaghers, which didn’t make much sense because Lip was living on campus. I think Ian thought if we weren’t at his house all the time, I’d eventually lose interest, but he was wrong.

With my dad gone, we started hanging out at my house. My brothers were getting used to seeing Ian around there more often and even started to tolerate his presence a little. Iggy never really had a problem with Ian, to begin with – it was mostly Mickey who bitched about him being there – but I guess I was wrong about Mickey not being able to change, because, before long, he and Ian were almost friendly.

After a few months, they were practically best friends. That was the 2nd time Mickey came between me and Ian, but thankfully, that time it wasn’t in a bad way…………

***

Mickey pulled the earphones from his head and let them fall to the floor as Ian walked into his room after his shift. This had become the routine almost immediately after that first night – Ian creeping into Mickey’s room the minute he was off work or at any opportunity he had during his visits to Mandy. Usually, Mickey was ready and waiting, stripping Ian of his clothes as soon as he walked in, but that night Mickey just laid on his bed and watched as Ian slowly undressed himself, their eyes locked the entire time.

Once naked, Ian sat next to him in the dark.

“You OK?” He asked.

Mickey nodded. He reached for Ian and pulled him down on top of him, locking their lips together softly, slowly opening his own to invite Ian in… their first kiss.

Ian held his breath; his eyes wide open as Mickey kissed him. He wasn’t sure if this was a test but if it was, he was about to fail miserably. Not even a week earlier Mickey had threatened to cut his tongue out if he tried to kiss him. _Fuck it_ , Ian thought. If he was gonna die, this wasn’t a bad way to go.

When the kiss ended, Ian said, “I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to do that.”

Mickey laughed, “Yeah, well you had a mouth full of vomit that day, asshole.”

Even in the dark, he could see Ian blush. The embarrassment of that night had not worn off yet, and Ian was still completely dumbfounded at how Mickey had let him live through it all. He tucked his head into Mickey’s pillow and groaned.

“Uughgod, I’m so fucking embarrassed.” He groaned and Mickey laughed. “I’m so sorry… so, so sorry.”

“Hey, stop that, Gallagher. It took fucking balls to walk in here the way you did.” That was something Mickey could respect, even if that first night had been shit in every other way. Ian had come to him.

Kissing soon became one of their favorite ways to pass the time, second in line to actually fucking, of course. When Mickey ran into Ian at the school he’d pull him into a dark corner of the world and kiss him, running his hand up the back of Ian’s short-cropped hair, sending charges of electricity through Ian until every part of his body was standing at attention; Then Mickey would walk away laughing, leaving Ian to figure out what to do with the wood poking at his crotch.

Weeks went by, then months and the fast, hard fucks they had begun with had slowly morphed into something new and beautiful. It had all changed between them after one bad day. Ian had shown up at Mickey’s door, visibly upset, bloody and bruised after a fight he’d gotten into with his old man, Frank. Mickey’s initial instinct was to go kick Frank’s ass, but Ian assured him the deed was done, so Mickey stayed instead, taking Ian into his room to make sure he was ok.

Mickey, the guy who walked around broken and bruised and never thought twice about it, got a warm washcloth to wash the blood gently from Ian’s face. He got a bag of peas for the tiny little cut on Ian’s knuckles, then he started undressing him. That night opened an entirely new dynamic between them; something spectacular and unexpected; Instead of hard and fast, Mickey laid next to Ian and touched him in ways no one ever had before, moving his fingers gently along Ian’s skin, caressing him in the most sensual way, awakening every nerve in Ian’s body as he went. It was soft, and private, and intimate, and Ian was immediately addicted. After that, things with Mickey were never predictable – he was tender and gentle and rough and dangerous all at the same time, and Ian wouldn’t have it any other way.

All the while, Mandy was none the wiser. She was so caught up with Lip, she hardly noticed that Ian was practically living in her house now, hanging out with her brother whenever she wasn’t around. That was the 2nd time Mickey came between her and Ian, but she didn’t mind so much, because at least they were finally getting along peacefully.

After spending a weekend on campus with Lip, she walked in late one Sunday night to find Ian and Mickey eating pizza and shit-talking as they played a video game, looking like they’d just pulled an all-nighter with their hair sticking up in every direction, wearing nothing more than boxers and T’s.

“You two shit heads even bother to leave the house this weekend?” She asked, tossing her bag into her bedroom door.

“Did you?” Mickey asked, “Or did you and College Boy just stay in his room and fuck for two days straight?”

Ian looked at her and chuckled. She flipped them both off.

“So, what, I get a boyfriend and you just move in and steal my best friend?” She asked Mickey, hitting Ian hard on the back of his head.

“Ow!”

“Fuck off. Gallagher always liked me better. He just never told you.”

Ian smiled from ear to ear, earning another smack across the back of his head from Mandy.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=iJDSIvPKhRk&feature=share

As far as Ian could tell going into his senior year of high school, he was the only person Mickey was fucking. No longer were there girls hanging off Mickey’s arms, and Mickey hardly had time to be fucking anyone else since he spent most of his time with Ian, but to anyone looking on they were nothing more than a couple of guys who’d grown up together.

Ian wanted more, but he would never ask. Mickey had a hard reputation, and his very survival depended on it staying that way, so he settled for whatever Mickey gave him, which was always enough.

The truth was, Mickey wanted the same things, but his life wasn’t a fairy tale and he knew he had nothing good to offer. Ian had been planning to go to the military since he was only 12 years old, and those plans were quickly becoming a reality. It was his one chance to get out of the shitty South side life he’d been born into, and Mickey wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. He just hoped when the time came, he would be ready to let Ian go.

They never talked about it. Not once. They just accepted that they had found a tiny blip of happiness in their normally shitty world, and so they held on to it with both hands until the ride was over.

“What are you two douchebags arguing about?” Mickey asked, walking into the kitchen. He really didn’t give a shit, but he’d heard Ian saying something about getting married and that had caught his attention.

“Ian and me are making a pact, if we aren’t married by 40, then we marry each other.”

“Gay,” Mickey replied, grabbing a beer from the fridge.

“I told Mandy I didn’t think we should wait until we’re 40. I mean, that’s half my life, you know?”

“Shit, on the South side, that’s 10 years past life expectancy.” Mickey scoffed.

“What do you think, Mickey? 30 or 40?” Mandy asked.

“Neither. Fuck marriage. It’s a fucking piece of paper. If you love someone, you show them, you don’t write it in a fucking contract.”

He took another long drink keeping his eyes on Ian’s.

“I don’t know… I mean, if you love someone, why not write it down for the world to see? I think marriage could be really great.” Ian looked down at his hands nervously. That was the closest they had come to any sort of discussion regarding relationships, and already it was too much.

“Name one fucking married couple you know that doesn’t want to kill each other.” He drank the last of his beer and burped. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You can’t. Marriage is for assholes.”

Mickey glared at Ian as he left the room. Ian wanted to follow him, but Mandy just kept talking about the kind of bouquet she would have as if nothing unusual had happened.

“Do you really think he believes that?” Ian interrupted. “You know, the marriage is bullshit stuff?”

“Probably… but you know Mickey – he doesn’t do love.”

They talked another fifteen minutes before her phone started to buzz. She looked at the screen, then apologetically at Ian.

“Sorry. I forgot I told Lip to facetime me when he was done with class… I’ll just call him later, no biggy.”

“No, it’s ok. Go ahead. I should probably get going anyway.” Ian said. He’d been hoping for a break in their conversation, eager to go find Mickey. “Seriously, go ahead and answer. I’ll let myself out.”

She jumped up, kissing Ian on the top of the head as she answered the call and jogged off to her bedroom.

Ian waited for her door to close before going to Mickey’s room. Mickey was buttoning up a clean shirt, looking like he was going out.

“We going somewhere?” Ian asked. It was Wednesday night, Ian’s only night off during the week, which he usually spent in Mickey’s room after Mandy had gone to bed.

“Not We. Me.” Mickey said, lacing up his shoes. “You got a problem with that?”

Ian was confused. Mickey grabbed his keys, and Ian jumped in front of him, blocking his path to the door.

“Wait, Mickey… What’s going on here? I thought…”

“Well, you thought wrong. Move.” He was not asking, and by the look he was giving, Ian could tell he was pissed. Mickey pushed him into the door as he passed by.

“Just wait… Mickey, wait a second.” Ian followed him out of the house. “What the fuck is going on? Where are you going? Why are you so pissed?”

Mickey turned before he got to his car, “Are you really in there making fucking plans to marry my fucking sister?”

“It was a joke! We were just… fucking around!”

“Fuck you!”

Ian chased after him, grabbing him by his arm before he could escape, and spinning him around to talk, but Mickey pushed him back hard, knocking him to the ground. The old fire and fury were back in his eyes.

“Get your fucking hands off me! Touch me again and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Ian was relentless, “I don’t understand what’s…”

It was too late. Mickey was in the car and speeding off before Ian could finish his sentence.

“It was a fucking joke.”

\--------------

  
The following day Ian walked to the athletic field fifteen minutes earlier than usual hoping to get a minute to talk to Mickey in person. He hadn’t answered a single text all night or day but Ian was sure if they could just talk about it, things would work themselves out. 

Relief washed through Ian as he saw Mickey’s car pull up to the curb across the field. Ian walked underneath the bleachers to wait for him – that was their spot – but as Mickey started to walk toward the field, a busty redhead got out of the passenger seat behind him. She had to almost jog in her hooker heels to catch up with him, but when she did, she clung to his arm and kissed his cheek as they walked, leaving her bright red lipstick there for everyone to see… and Mickey didn’t push her off when she did it.

Mickey’s heart was racing. He knew Ian would be there, and he knew what this would do to him, but it was time. After spending half the night snorting coke until he couldn’t tell up from down, Mickey had come to the conclusion that there was no other conclusion for him and Ian, so why not just fast forward so they could both get on with shit.

The redhead was laughing, already pulling at the buttons on Mickey’s jeans when they got to where Ian was standing. Mickey saw him before she did.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He asked Ian. “You wanna give us some fuckin’ privacy, asshole?”

The redhead turned and smiled at Ian, but she didn’t stop working to get Mickey’s pants off.

Ian couldn’t move. The whole world around him was swimming and hazy and he knew if he took a single step he might actually pass out. He blinked hard, willing himself not to cry, but he could feel the blood rushing into his cheeks and his eyes filling with tears.

“You deaf or something, dumb ass?” Mickey warned, taking a warning step toward Ian with a fist up, “Get. The. Fuck. Out!”

Once upon a time, Ian would have stayed to fight Mickey. He would have stood his ground and told Mickey to fuck off. He would have even taken a beating just to prove that he wasn’t afraid of Mickey because that was how he and Mickey were… once upon a time. But now, all the fight had gone from him and the tears in his eyes betrayed him as they fell. His breath hitched as he tried to find words, but those were gone too. He had to leave, now. There was no way he could look at Mickey another second – not with her there, not with both of them laughing at him. He turned and ran out of the bleachers and away from the field as fast as he could.

“Fucking faggots. I shoulda kicked his fucking ass.” Mickey said as he turned his attention back to the redhead. He pulled her short skirt up over her waist and flipped her around to face the other direction. “Bend over.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k2WcOdz96ko

MANDY: With graduation a few weeks away, track practice, JROTC, and a job, Ian and I saw less of each than we ever had since we first met. If I wanted to see him, I had to go find him because he was always too busy to come by the house any more, which was fine because Mickey had a new squeeze and she was there every day. 

Svetlana. She was some Russian bitch who acted like she didn’t speak English until it was convenient for her. Before long, she had moved all of her shit into Mickey’s room and the house was constantly filled with her Russian girlfriends. If I didn’t know better, I would think Mickey had fallen into rescuing a litter of prostitutes – they slept all day, then dressed up in threads to go work all night.

I tried to complain about it to Ian a few times, but he finally just snapped at me.

“I don’t give a fuck, Mandy! I don’t want to hear about who Mickey is fucking, ok!”

“Jesus Christ, Ian… fine!”

He was just so stressed out with everything he was doing, and I think knowing that he was leaving for boot camp in less than 3 months was beginning to freak him out.

“Hey, I’m sorry, ok? I wasn’t trying to stress you out… it’s just… can I just sleep at your house tonight? If I have to see those bitches one more second today, I’m gonna stab someone.” 

“Yeah, sure Mands. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m just over all of the shit here, you know? I’m just ready to go and leave all this shit behind me.”

He left to go jump in the shower, while I sat on his bed and cried. 

Didn’t he even care that he was leaving me behind too?

***

“Hey Ian, you about ready?” Lip called from the bottom of the steps.  
Ian and Mandy came running down. 

“Yep…sorry. Couldn’t find my wallet.”

“Where are we going again?” Lip asked as they piled into his car. They were on the hunt for a rental suit. Ian was accepting several awards he had worked his ass for, and Lip insisted he dress for success to go on stage.

“Some suit shop over on Clark. Hold up, I’ll GPS it.” Ian said. 

“I know where it is.” Mandy said, “Mickey went there to rent a suit for the wedding.”

“What wedding?” Lip and Ian asked in unison.

“His wedding.” She said, looking back at Ian. “I thought I told you about that – Mickey and Svet are getting married. She’s pregnant.”

“Buckle up.” Lip reminded Ian.

Ian fell back against the seat and started breathing hard. There was no fucking oxygen in the car… he rolled the window down and laid his head beside the opening, wiping his eyes and taking deep breaths. Mandy and Lip were talking in the front seat but he didn’t know if it was to him or to one another, he wasn’t listening. His heart hurt. His stomach turned. He started hyperventilating, he couldn’t breathe!

“Lip! Pull over!” 

The car pulled to the curb and Ian opened the door just as he threw up, coughing and crying and retching again and again until he was spent. He sat there, bent over silently sobbing until at last Lip came around the side of the car.

“Yo, Ian. You ok? Mandy, hand me some napkins from the glove compartment.” 

Ian stayed bent, crying. He couldn’t look up. Lip handed him a few napkins and Ian wiped his eyes then spit and wiped his mouth. When he stood up, Lip pulled him to the back of the car away from Mandy and the rear-view mirror. 

Ian couldn’t look at him. He looked anywhere but at his brother, wiping the new tears before they could fall with his forearm. Lip pulled him in for a hug, and Ian clutched him for dear life.

“He’s getting married,” Ian said quietly.

Lip just nodded. It was the first time Ian had confirmed anything, but Lip had suspected it almost from the beginning. He knew his brother. He hugged Ian harder for several minutes until he felt his breathing calm and the tears slowed down.

Ian stepped back, looking around again and wiping his eyes one last time, then laughed like the joke was on him. “I just always thought it would be me, you know? In the end, we’d figure it the fuck out… and it would be me.”

Lip let him have another minute, jumping in the car while they waited.

“Is he ok? What happened?”

“Nah, he’s fine. Just ate some bad food I think… or stress, I don’t know. He’s fine.” He assured her.


	16. Chapter 16

MANDY: I literally begged Ian to go with me to the wedding, and he shut me down a dozen times. He even stopped answering calls or texts, and every time I saw him, he just shook his head and said “NO. I told you, I’m busy.” before I ever had a chance to say a word............  
***

“Mickey, text Ian and tell him you want him to go with me to the wedding today – not the church – I just want him to go the bar later. Tell him it’s free booze.” 

“Fuck him. If he wants to be a little bitch, let him. I don’t give a fuck if he goes or not.” He turned so she could help him with his tie. “Here, do this.” 

“What happened with you two, anyway. I thought you were friends… hell, for a minute there he was spending more time with you than me.”

“Nothing happened. Didn’t have time to sit around and babysit his ass anymore when I should’ve been out making money. Got a kid on the way.”

Mandy sighed, twisting the poorly tied knot around on his neck trying to make it fit better. “Yeah, that’s about the best I can do.” She offered, turning him around to face the mirror. It was better than what he’d done – he nodded. “So, what changed your mind, you know, about getting married and love and all that shit?” She asked. 

“Didn’t change my mind. Love is for pussies… I’m just doing this for the kid. Cheaper than paying fucking child support every month. ‘Sides, why make the kid pay just because I didn’t wrap my dick on time, right?”

“Real romantic, Mick. And the first step down divorce lane too.”

“Oh, fuck off with that shit, Mandy. Most of the fucking neighborhood is filled with people who got hitched for their shitty kids. Collin fucking did it. I’m doing it, and if you and fucking College Boy keep humping like bunnies, you’ll be doing it too, bitch. We’ll all fucking survive it.” He yanked his jacket from the bedpost. “Let’s get this shit show over with.”

***  
Ian was sitting on the porch when Lip came out and sat down next to him, both of them sitting silently for a minute. Ian handed Lip his cigarette and Lip took a hit then handed it back.

“Nah, it’s ok. I’m on my last one, then I’m quitting. Figured I should share it with you… you know. Sorta our thing.” Ian took in the button-up, collared shirt and slacks Lip was wearing. “You going?”

Lip nodded, looked away, then back at Ian. “Yep. You want me to stay here?”

Ian poked at his shoe pretending to rub away a smudge and shook his head. “No. Just… rather not hear about it later either, you know?”

“Yeah, got it. I’ll keep Mandy busy so she doesn’t come back talking about it.”

Ian still didn’t look up and Lip knew their talk was over. He reached over and rubbed his brother’s shoulder before leaving. Ian waited until his car had cleared the block before lifting his head and wiping hard at his eyes. 

He kept reminding himself – this was ok. This happened to everyone. There were billions of people in the world who had their hearts broken, and somehow, they survived it. He just hadn’t figured out how yet. As Lip had told him, sometimes it’s day by day, sometimes it’s minute by minute. At that very moment, it was really second by second. 

Ian pushed off the steps and went back into the house to start packing. He was leaving in two days and all this shit would be far behind him. In a week he’d have his head so far up his drill sergeant’s ass (not literally) that Mickey wouldn’t even be a blip on the screen anymore, and Ian knew it. It was time to free himself of the South side and start living.


	17. Chapter 17

There was a priest and gaudy bridesmaids and food and booze and all the drugs Mickey’s mind (and heart) required to get him through it. Svetlana said her “I do’s” and he thinks he said them too, but his brain was foggy so maybe he said ‘why the fuck not’ and everyone laughed… either way, they were hitched. 

He stayed high for a week. If he started to come too far out of his stupor, he did another line of coke, because fuck everyone. When Mandy came into the house crying about something having to do with Ian, he threw a bottle at her and told her to shut her fuckin’ mouth about that fucking faggot… then did another line of coke. 

The following week Mickey was positive Ian was gone for good. Svetlana had given up on him completely. She cursed him out all day as he laid around in the same underwear he’d had on for a week, and threw shit at him because he was too high to do anything about it. Finally, Collin stopped by the house because Mandy insisted that “Mickey’s trying to fucking kill himself. You need to go knock some sense into him.”

Collin dragged Mickey by one arm into the bathroom… the same bathroom where he and Ian had first fucked… and threw his ass in the shower, turning on the cold water and holding him there until Mickey could look him in the eye again. Mickey came through punching, and for whatever reason, Collin let him do it. Mickey pulled the shower curtain down. He broke the mirror. He threw an empty beer bottle through the window. He punched the tiled wall so many times it left it shattered and bloody. All the while, Collin waited by the door and let him have at it.

When he was done, there was glass everywhere and water flooding out into his bedroom, and Mickey was sitting back in the shower with his hands over his head. Collin had turned the water off by then, but his skin was covered in goosebumps and he shook uncontrollably. 

“You need to get your shit together, Mickey,” Collin said evenly. “You’re off the street until you can stop snorting more than you can sell, got it?”

Mickey didn’t answer.

“And if I have to come back here again, you’re out of the fucking house too. This isn’t a good way to start shit with a kid on the way, Mick, so figure it the fuck out.”  
  



	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=N2qeFO2tbs8&feature=share

MANDY: Mickey and Svetlana’s son came late on a Saturday night. Mickey called me sounding alarmingly calm… and nice... and that’s how I knew he was scared shitless. Even after 9 months of getting used to the idea that he was about to have a kid, he hadn’t come to terms with the idea of being a dad. Why should he? Our dad was a piece of shit. He was in and out of prison, a drug dealer, a drunk, and the fucking meanest Milkovich on the South side. With an example like that, I could understand why Mickey was scared shitless. 

But it was probably because of our dad that Mickey finally got his shit together. ‘Be what you needed when you were growing up’ kind of shit. He’d seen that printed on the wall at rehab, and I think it was the only thing that actually stuck. Well, that and semi sobriety…………

\--------------------  
  
She heard the baby crying and waited for someone to come out and tell her it was ok to go in. How fucking hard was it to peek your head out the door and say it’s here! Mandy thought to herself, tapping her foot impatiently as she stood right next to the door. At last, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps, then a nurse came walking out.

“I think they’re ready for you.” She said.

Mandy’s phone rang and she was about to hit ignore when she saw it was a video call from Ian. She hadn’t talked to him since boot camp started. They’d had a few texts here and there, but there were strict rules about phone usage in those first 3 months, and Ian was doing everything to play by the rules, but he had promised her he would call her the second they lifted the ban. There couldn’t have been better timing than this!

“Ian! Oh my god! Look at your hair!” she whispered excitedly as she walked into the birthing room. 

“Mandy! God, I missed you!” He rubbed at his cropped hair which showed more skin than the red hair Mandy had loved so much and laughed. “Yeah, it’s pretty short, but I’m allowed to start letting it grow again now…” 

Ian stopped talking when the camera angle turned to a dim room with doctors and nurses walking around in the far corner. He'd known this day was coming - he just didn't expect to be there when it happened. Mandy turned the screen toward the incubator and Ian saw her brand-new nephew at exactly the same minute she did.

“Oh... he's fucking gorgeous!” she said. 

Ian’s eyes welled up at the sight of the tiny little creature wiggling around under the electric heat lamps, naked and new, and looking every bit like Mickey in tiny human form. 

“He’s perfect,” Ian said quietly.

Mandy kept the screen on the baby as she continued talking in hushed tones, “His name is Yevgeny.” She said it slow, hoping she would finally get it right, and from behind her she heard Svetlana say, “Vot tak!” (that’s right!). 

“Yevgeny,” Ian repeated as if he’d heard it a thousand times. “He’s so beautiful, Mandy.”

The nurse poked Yevgeny’s foot and he began to wail. 

“Good luck getting a wink of sleep with that little guy in the house! He’s definitely got his daddy’s lungs.” Ian laughed.

Mandy turned the camera back to her just as the nurse was lifting the baby and handing him to Mickey. Ian’s eyes were glued to the screen trying to get a look at him, but it was too late, Mandy was back on. 

“They gotta sew Svet up, or some shit like that, so I’m going back in the hall where we can talk.” 

Ian caught the shortest glimpse of Mickey cradling his new son, a smile painted on his face, as she left the room. Ian’s heart skipped, and he couldn’t tell if it was sadness or joy that he felt, but he was just so damn happy for Mickey… Mickey looked happy. It was really all Ian had ever wanted.

Mandy talked his ear off, asking every detail she could think to ask about boot camp. “Mands,” Ian laughed. “I swear, this won’t be my last phone call. We don’t have to fit it all in tonight.” Ian was hurting for another peek at Mickey but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject again until he heard Yevgeny crying. “Holy hell, listen to the set of lungs on that kid! Seriously, you need to invest in earplugs so you can get some sleep.”

“Oh no, Mickey moved. He and Svet got a place near Ogden Park, on 64th”

Ian knew it well. He and Mickey had hung out there sometimes. 

“Ogden Park? Over by the cop shop? Isn’t that a little too close for comfort for Mickey?” 

“No shit, right? At least it would be if he was still dealing, but as far as I know, he’s outta the game.” 

What Mandy didn’t say was how Collin had to come back to the house 3 days after that first cold shower to straighten Mickey out before the cops got called. Mickey had ripped apart the house, room by room, breaking everything he could break and turning over furniture. Mandy called Collin, telling him Svetlana was screaming about calling the cops, and nobody dared go into the house because Mickey had a gun.

Collin was there ten minutes later, entering the house through the back door just so he could sneak up on Mickey and take him down from behind. After a full-on fistfight and once Mickey and Collin had worn each other down, they sat in the middle of the floor bleeding and glaring at each other for another ten minutes. It was then that Collin realized Mickey wasn’t even high. 

“The fuck is going on with you, Mick?”

Mickey sniffed, wiping the blood on his nose with the back of his hand, then pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes. After a minute when he was sure he could speak without his voice shaking he said, “I need help. I need a new fucking life, and this ain’t it, man. I’m about to have a kid and the only thing I know about that is how to beat them and make them feel like shit on the bottom of my shoe.” He wiped his eyes again. “I can’t do this anymore, Col… I need you to help me, man.”

All Ian heard were the words – ‘he’s outta the game’ – but it didn’t make sense. Mickey was practically the ringleader; how could he be out of it? Before he could ask, Mandy got interrupted.

“Oh, look! It’s Mickey… and he has Yevgeny!” She turned the phone so he could see Mickey standing just inside the door holding his son. He was a Norman Rockwell painting of a beaming father, looking at his son.

“Who you talking to?” Mickey asked, never taking his eyes off his son.

“Ian. You wanna say hi? Here, take it… I gotta pee.” Mandy said, handing the phone to Mickey.

Mickey’s heart fell. He took a seat in the hall where he could hold Yevgeny and the phone at the same time, then glanced up and saw Ian looking back at him. He looked healthy, bigger, even older. He looked like he was scared to death. We’re fucking in it now, Mickey thought, so why the hell not.

“Yo, Gallagher… how’s it hanging?” He tried to act natural. He tried not to shake as he held his son up to the camera. He tried to smile, but his heart just wasn’t in it, so it faded before Ian ever saw it.

“Mick… you’re a dad.” He smiled. Then he did something Mickey was completely unprepared for. Ian turned his head away from the screen and wiped his eyes. “I’m happy for you. He looks just like you.” His voice was shaking as much as his phone was.

Mickey tried harder and this time he smiled. “Yeah, let’s just hope that’s the only thing he picks up from me, right?”

Mandy was coming back and Mickey took the opportunity to escape before it all got too hard to pretend anymore. “Here’s Mandy.”  
Ian wiped at his eyes furiously before Mandy was back in front of him, and just as quickly, Mickey was gone.

“So… tell me – meet any hot military guys yet?”


	19. Chapter 19

Ian was up all night, surfing the net at first since he’d been restricted from using it for 3 months, then looking at Mandy’s IG posts, hoping for any hints of Mickey’s life in there. Most of it was just pics of her and Lip and a lot of food. He never understood the food posts. He was on round two of her Facebook page when his phone vibrated. He nearly dropped his phone when he saw it was a video call from Mickey. He had deleted Mickey’s contact info when he left Chicago, but he still knew the number better than he knew his own. 

The screen came to life, but it was almost completely dark and Ian could barely make out his face.

“Hey, Mick. Didn’t expect to hear from you.” Ian tried to sound bitter, but he didn’t, and he was glad he’d failed. 

Mickey smiled. “You look good, Gallagher. They feeding you 5 squares a day or something? Looks like you put on some weight.” Mickey tried to sound casual, but the truth was he had spent the last two hours thinking of ten different things he could talk to Ian about IF he ever got the courage to make the fucking phone call. He’d even written cliff notes on the hospital note pad in case the conversation stalled.

Ian smiled back. “Yeah, eating pretty good actually. They keep me running here. Gotta keep up my energy, you know?” He could do this. “I can barely see you. Where are you.”

Mickey turned the phone and the glow of the screen lit his son’s face up, a tiny bottle tucked neatly between Mickey’s fingers, and Yevgeny’s fat Milkovich lips sucking away.

“I wanted to introduce you to my son… you know, properly and all. Caught me by surprise earlier.” Mickey’s voice was soft and tender, and Ian’s heart melted because he had always known Mickey had that in him. He’d seen it himself, and now this tiny little beautiful being got to see that side of Mickey too. “Yevgeny… this is Ian. Can you say hi?”

Mickey turned the screen back to himself. “He’s not much of a talker yet, but give him a few months and he’ll be talking baseball stats with you like an old pro.”

“A few months, huh? Ambitious.” What Ian wanted to say was ‘does that mean we’ll be talking in a few months?’ 

Neither of them talked. Mickey looked at his son, then back at Ian, then back at his son. Ian looked at Mickey. It was as if they both needed the silence of the night to heal them, and so they let it happen, cliff notes be damned. There was too much that needed to be said but that was not the time and they both knew it.

“I should probably let you go.” Mickey finally said. “I gotta burp the little shit… then change the shitty diaper.”

“Ok, sure… You got your hands full there.” Ian nodded. They kept their eyes on each other.

“Hey, Mickey.” Don’t say it! Don’t fucking say it, Ian! “I miss you.”

Mickey looked down at his son and didn’t say anything, and Ian knew he had made a mistake. Then Mickey looked back at him.

“Yeah... I miss you too.”

Ian nodded and swallowed hard. "Talk to you later than." He hung up before Mickey could say more. It was enough for now.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FnzHOsiaJns

It only happened twice... At least in that first week. The second call was during another middle of the night feeding. Ian had been sound asleep in his bunk, but when his phone buzzed under his hand, he immediate sat up and answered. 

“Did I wake you?”

Ian rubbed his eyes and yawned. “No, I’m up.” 

“The fuck are you doing awake at … three in the morning, Gallagher?” Mickey asked facetiously.

“Baking a fucking cake, bitch. What are you doing?” Ian said, making Mickey laugh.

“I’m on night duty. Little fucker shit right through his clothes and now he’s wide awake, so I’m up too.”

“He’s there? Show me! Aaah, Mick! Look how big he’s gotten!”

“He hasn’t gotten any bigger. It’s only been four days. He just got all the wrinkles ironed out of him.”

Yevgeny did what all babies who are four days old do… nothing… but Ian watched him like he was the most fascinating thing in the world. Mickey had the phone turned just right where he could see Ian’s face as he made baby cooing sounds at Yevgeny.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mickey asked.

“I’m talking to him… that’s baby talk, everyone knows that.” Ian explained. “Don’t worry, Mickey. You were a baby once… it’ll all come back to you soon enough.”

“You’re an asshole.” He turned the screen back to himself and Ian couldn’t decide who he liked seeing more – Yevgeny or Mickey. Mickey had a wide toothy smile on his face, and Ian immediately decided Mickey was the winner – sorry Yevgeny!

“Hey Ian, listen…” The smile went away. “I feel like I need to apologize you know… for the way things went down.”

“Mickey, I don’t…”

“Come on, man. Just let me say this, ok? Because I’ve been fucking thinking about it for a while and…” His eyes pleaded with Ian. “I fucked up, Ian. I mean, don’t get me wrong – we both know this is where we were headed anyway, but I coulda done things different. I shoulda done things different, but fuck man… What the fuck do I know about life, right? I just knew you were gonna be leaving, and if not then, then eventually, so… I just fucking ripped the band-aid off that bitch.”

It was the first time he’d given Ian something that made sense. Things had been perfect, at least in Ian’s mind – or at least as perfect as they could be when you're in a relationship with a closeted gay guy on the South side. But now Ian understood that Mickey had never wanted to have a future with him. 

“Do you really believe that Mickey?” Ian asked angrily. “Was it really all just about fucking for you all along, since you knew I was leaving anyway?”

“Huh? Wai…what are you saying?” Mickey ran his own words back in his head, trying to understand what Ian had heard.

“Fuck you, Mickey,” Ian said calmly. “Fuck you for making me think you wanted something more. And fuck me for believing you.”

The screen went dark. Mickey didn’t understand.

“What the hell…” He stared at his phone for a second, then said, “Fuck that!” he hit redial and put the phone to his ear.

“Fuck YOU, Ian! You little bitch. I called to apologize for being a dick and all you can do it fucking hang up. Grow the fuck up!”

They yelled over each other, bitch asshole fuck yous motherfuckers fucking idiot stupid fucking dick fucking shithead ass FUUUUUUUCK!

One of them stopped talking. Actually, both of them stopped, but neither was listening to the other so they weren’t sure who stopped first. Mickey was squeezing his phone to his ear so hard his fingers were beginning to ache. Ian turned the mouthpiece upwards so Mickey wouldn’t be able to hear his heavy breaths as he tried to calm down.

“I didn’t say I never wanted you, asshole,” Mickey said sternly. 

Ian’s eyes widened. He put the phone back to his mouth but didn’t know what to say.

“I said I didn’t know how to let you go,” Mickey said more softly.

“Oh.”


	21. Chapter 21

MANDY: With Mickey and Iggy both out of the house, I was spending a lot of nights on campus or at the Gallagher house with Lip, so during Christmas break, when Ian came home, I finally got to spend some quality time with my best friend. He helped me pick out Christmas presents for Yevgeny, and even got a few of his own for the little rug rat. The rest of the time we sat around laughing and drinking with the rest of the Gallaghers before it was time for him to leave……………………..

*** 

“Ian…” Lip peeked in on Ian. The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon and Ian had barely gone to sleep an hour earlier, forgetting he’d told Lip he would be up early to take Mandy to work. Ian grumbled incoherently. “Ian, we’re taking off. You coming or you wanna just meet up later?”

Ian pulled a pillow over his face, “Later.”

“K. I’ll tell her to leave the key on the table for you.”

Ian was about to doze off again, but a question popped into his head: A key to what? 

He tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t stop wondering what the key was for. He got out of bed and trudged to the bathroom. Maybe an empty bladder would help him fall asleep again – but the question remained.

“What key?” He said aloud.

Then it hit him. Sometime in the middle of their second bottle of whiskey, Ian had agreed to help Lip fix a few drywall holes and a window at the Milkovich house.

“Aw, shit.” It was hardly the way he wanted to spend his last day in town. 

The only reason Ian had agreed was that his brother was an asshole. Mandy had hinted several times over the week at how much easier it was to stay with him than going back and forth to her house after work. When Lip clearly ignored her hints, she brought up how depressing the Milkovich house was – she was all alone there and it was basically a dump – and Lip’s solution had been, “Oh, Ian and I can fix that shit for you, right Ian?” Ian had seen Lip like this before, and he knew Lip was about to fuck her over, so the least Ian could do was to help make her house a little better so she had someplace to go when shit hit the fan. Poor Mandy. 

He went back to the room hoping to fall asleep for another hour or so, but no matter how much tossing and turning he did, sleep wasn’t coming. A quick shower and a cup of coffee later, he grabbed the key from the table and walked the few blocks over to the Milkovich house.

From the street, nothing had changed. It was the same neighborhood eyesore it had been since the day he first saw it, with no sign of life or love to be seen. Her note had said use the back door, so he made his way around the discarded chair and trash in the yard, and let himself in. 

The house was dark, with little light leaking in through the dark curtains Those were new, Ian noted. The last time he'd been there they had been using sheets and blankets nailed across the windows as drapery. The next thing he noticed was how clean it looked. There were no dirty dishes or empty beer bottles, and the counters had all been wiped down. He walked into the dining and living room and found them the same. The house itself was still as bad as it had ever been, but Mandy had cleaned up. There was less furniture and a couple of potted plants that looked like they could use a drink of water, but the trash and debris that had once been a staple decoration were all gone. 

He walked through, opening a few doors – Mandy’s room was a normal messy, with laundry tossed about, but the blankets on the bed were pulled up and everything seemed to be mostly in place. The next two rooms were complete disasters – Iggy’s and Terry’s rooms. The fresh smell of cigarettes in Iggy’s room told Ian he must still be staying there some nights. 

Ian came to the last door – the familiar “Stay The Fuck Out” sign still hanging there. It had been there since Ian was ten, and over the last few years, he was the only person allowed to walk in that room without knocking. Well, not the only person anymore, he thought. He looked around as if he expected Mickey himself to jump out from a corner and beat his ass if he opened the door, then he turned the knob.

  
The room was completely dark. Ian flicked the light on and noticed it was different than he remembered it. The window was boarded up now and the curtain rod was broken, hanging at an angle with a Metallica banner dangling off the edge. Posters were torn from the wall ripped in pieces all around, and the nightstand was smashed against a wall. The twin bed was the same, with the familiar red wool blanket laying in a pile on top of it, but the dresser Ian had once fallen into drunk was gone as were all the clothes from the closet which was left open. 

Ian walked carefully into the en suite bathroom, avoiding broken beer bottles and other trash scattered on the floor. The bathroom was in the same condition. Broken window, broken shower stall, broken tiles. The dark brown dried bloodstains that still remained on the walls and floor alarmed him. He was so surprised by all of it, he hadn’t noticed the front door closing. He pulled the shower curtain off the floor, wondering what had happened there, then began to pick up the glass.


	22. Chapter 22

Mickey tucked a blanket up around Yevgeny’s chin to keep the morning chill off him, then searched his pockets to make sure he’d remembered a key. He grabbed the small diaper bag and his son’s car seat and headed inside. 

Mandy told him the crib he needed might be in the cellar if it was there at all. Much as he hated the idea of using a beat-up crib that had made its way through five Milkovich kids, it was going to have to do until he could afford something better. The house was colder than usual when he walked in, which told him Mandy must have been spending more of her time with her punk ass boyfriend. He stopped at the thermostat and turned it up to 75 to warm the place up for Yevgeny, then went to put the car seat holding his son on the couch while he went hunting in the cellar.

The sound of glass falling startled him until he realized maybe Mandy was home after all.

“Mandy! Is that you?” He called. Yevgeny stirred in his seat. “Shh shh shhhh… go back to sleep…”

A few seconds later Ian came walking out of his bedroom door carefully carrying a bundled-up shower curtain filled with broken glass.

“Gallagher? What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Mickey!” Ian almost dropped the shower curtain, grabbing it fast and catching his arm on a corner of broken glass. “Shit, hold up.” 

He went walking out the back door to dump the trash then came back in. All the while Mickey stood there, brows pinched in confusion as to why Ian Gallagher was in his bedroom … cleaning. Ian came back in, washing his hands in the kitchen sink and wiping at the small scrape on his arm with a paper towel.

“Hi, Mick. I was just…” He pointed to the room and realized how odd it must look. Did he dare say he was cleaning the mess so he could erase whatever happened there? No, best not go there, he thought. “I’m waiting for Lip.”

“The fuck is Phillip coming here for?” Mickey asked harshly. 

This time Yevgeny began to cry, drawing Ian’s attention to the car seat on the couch. He forgot all about Mickey’s question and his eyes widened at the sound of Mickey’s son.

“Is that…?” He pointed, walking closer for a better look. Yevgeny let go of a full wail.

“Aaah fuck. I just got him to sleep.” He started unbuckling the car seat.

“Can I?” Ian asked. “Can I hold him?” Mickey took a step back and bit at his lip. He waved a hand at his son and Ian jumped over as quick as he could.

He pulled Yevgeny from his seat and laughed as his little body stretched its full length before curling his legs up again. Ian immediately cuddled him like an old pro and began talking softly to him as he walked the room.

“Hey there, little guy. What’s going on? Did Uncle Ian wake you up?” Mickey raised his brows at the ‘Uncle Ian’ comment but didn’t correct him. He got a bottle from the diaper bag ready. “Let’s see what you have here – is that a sailboat on your shirt? Are you gonna be a sailor? Nooo… you don’t wanna be a sailor. No one likes the Navy. The army is the way to go.”

Mickey came back with the bottle and watched as Ian calmed Yevgeny, curling him into his chest and kissing the top of his head.

“Here. You wanna give him a bottle? I mean, you don’t …” Before he had a chance to finish recanting the offer, Ian had the bottle in hand and was maneuvering Yevgeny into a new position on his arm. He had it all under control. "You ok with him for a minute? I gotta go down to the cellar and look for something.”

“Yeah.” Ian looked up at Mickey. He was glowing at the sight of Mickey next to him, and Mickey’s son in his arms. “Yeah, we’re good. Go do what you came to do. I got this.”

Ian sat on the couch and tucked a pillow under the baby and settled him on his thighs where he could really see him. Yevgeny’s tiny arms flayed at the sides and Ian pulled them in and held them with his own to make him feel secure. Yevgeny never took his eyes of Ian, his fat little lips working hard on the nipple, but his eyes bright and alert watching Ian’s every move. 

“Uncle Ian bought you a present, yes he did. Aunt Mandy will give it to you later, ok? And then she’s gonna take a picture and send it to me so I can see how great you look. Aw, look at you. So precious.” 

Yevgeny’s eyes crinkled – maybe gas, but Ian only saw the same little smile his daddy had.

He leaned forward to kiss the baby’s forehead, pushing Yevgeny’s legs up a little, and the baby let out a long, wet fart. Ian jumped back, wide-eyed and laughed. That time Yevgeny smiled for sure, his fat lips breaking contact with the nipple as formula dripped down his cheek. 

Ian put the bottle aside, “I think you probably had enough. Let’s see if we can burp you.” He put the baby to his shoulder and began to pat his back, but Yevgeny wiggled upright, pushing his head up to look around. “Boy, you’re strong, aren’t you? Just like your daddy. I love it.” 

He stood to walk so the baby could see more as he burped him. Yevgeny stretched his tiny legs out again then released some gas again from the wrong end. Ian couldn’t help but smile. He was greatly amused and completely giddy to finally be holding Mickey’s son. Then the smell hit him, making him gag.

“Oh! Oh god, what is that?” Yevgeny let go of another fart… only this time it wasn’t a fart. Ian felt the heat under his hand as the diaper filled. “Oh no… no no no no no… none of that!” The smell intensified and Ian knew it was too late to negotiate. He turned his head trying to find fresh air, and Yevgeny let loose of another load.

“For the love of God, Yevy! What was in that bottle?” 

He rushed over and grabbed the diaper bag and headed for Mickey’s room, stopping short at the door when he saw the mess again, then turned for Mandy’s room. He grabbed a towel hanging from a hook on the back of her door and laid it on the bed, just in case the diaper hadn’t contained the explosion of poop, then laid the baby carefully on top of it. Yevgeny kicked his legs out playfully and wiggled, turning his head and twisting his body as if he was about to crawl away. 

“Whoa! Wait!” Ian put pillows all around him. How old were babies before they started rolling around, he thought frantically as he tried to get Yevgeny to lay still. “You’re only 3 weeks old, why are you moving so much?”

Ian worked as fast as he could, gently removing the baby jeans he had on, and pulling the little sailboat shirt up high so it wouldn’t get soiled. He removed the diaper expecting the worst, but there was hardly more than a small, wet, round golden mess stuck to the diaper itself. 

“Ah, look at that. That’s not so bad, is it?” 

He started pulling things out of the diaper bag – lotion, socks, a knitted cap, a ball syringe, and finally a small container of wipes – then went right to work, cleaning Yevgeny up. Ian looked behind him at the door to make sure Mickey wasn’t coming, hoping to be done before he got back. As he wrapped the diaper in a ball, the baby began to pee all over himself and his tiny pants sitting nearby. 

“No no! Don’t do that!” Ian put his hand above his penis to block the stream of urine, which now rained it back down all over Yevgeny’s belly. “Oh shit.” This time the sailboat shirt would have to go too. Ian hadn’t noticed Mickey standing at the door behind them now, silently chuckling as he watched. 

Ian undressed Yevgeny, moving slowly as he pulled the wet shirt over his head. He cleaned the baby up again, putting a corner of the towel over him this time for insurance. Yevgeny was completely content now, making baby squeaky sounds as he wiggled around to peek at something on the complete opposite end of the bed. 

Meanwhile, Ian searched the diaper bag for extra clothes, dumping all the contents on the bed next to him. A blue flannel onesie with teddy bears fell out. He quickly diapered Yevgeny and redressed him.   
Ian tucked all the soiled clothes into a side pocket stuffed everything else back in, zipping it up and hoping it looked like he’d never been in it at all.

“There…. You look great. Maybe daddy won’t notice, huh?” 

He lifted Yevgeny up and held him out in front of him at arm’s length. 

“You are stunning, you know that?” He cradled the baby in his arms again and just took him in.

Mickey wiped nervously at his brow, ready to break up the little party, then surprised himself and did something else instead. He walked up beside Ian and rested his head against Ian’s shoulder and one hand gently on the belt of his pants, peeking around at his son. 

Without missing a beat, Ian reached beside him and took Mickey’s hand in his own, still talking softly to Yevgeny, then brought both his and Mickey’s hand up to hold his son’s tiny hand. Ian turned his head and left a single kiss on top of Mickey’s head, then turned his attention back to Yevgeny.

The front door opened, and Mickey instinctively went to pull his hand away, but Ian tightened his fingers around Mickey’s and held him a few seconds longer, then, at last, let go.

He turned and handed the diaper bag and Yevgeny carefully to Mickey, then grabbed the soiled diaper as father and son walked away. Before Mickey had gone too far, Ian spoke up.

“Mickey?” 

Mickey stopped at the door but didn’t look back.

“Are you happy?”

Mickey stayed silent, then said, “She’s a whore, you know?”

“Huh?” 

“Svet. I married her so my kid wouldn’t end up in Russia or some crack house.” Through the window, Mickey could see Lip coming back up with a sheet of drywall. “I should go.”

“K.” 

Ian waited until Mickey was gone before leaving the room. Lip came in dragging the drywall. He looked at Ian, then back in the direction Mickey had just gone and asked. “You ok?”

Ian nodded and gave his brother a reassuring smile. “Yeah." Yes, he was more than ok. "Let’s get this done.”


	23. Chapter 23

After the living room was patched up and the front window replaced, Lip loaded up his tools and headed out. Ian stayed behind, going back into Mickey’s room to finish what he had started earlier. It took him another 3 hours, but by the time he left, he had cleared out all the trash and cleaned the blood from Mickey’s bedroom and bathroom. He fixed the make-shift Metallica curtain on the window, then put away everything else as best as he could. The only thing he didn’t fix was the window, but he told himself he’d get to it next time he was home.

It was after 11 by the time he’d grabbed something to eat and showered. The Gallagher house was already settled in earlier than usual for the night, and he had an 8 am flight, so he got to packing his bag when his phone rang. Mickey.

“Hello.” 

Mickey didn’t say anything for a second, then, “I was happy …you know. With you.”

Ian took a seat on the bed, forgetting the clothes he was folding and waited, mainly because he wasn’t sure how to respond to that. The few moments he and Mickey had shared earlier had been good. They’d been enough, and Ian was ready to let him go – no regrets. He never thought he had a choice. He thought Mickey was done.

“You there?” Mickey asked.

“Yeah.” 

Quiet.

“Why are you telling me this?” Ian asked. He had thought all day about what Mickey had said about ripping the band-aid off, and now that they’d had those few minutes together with Yevgeny, it felt like they’d come to forgiveness. Ian was finally on the edge of accepting why Mickey had to do things that way that he did. There could never be another path for them. Like Mandy had told him once, Mickey was never going to change … not for Ian. But what no one ever said was Ian never wanted Mickey to change at all.

“I-I… what I meant to say was, why didn’t you tell me that when it mattered?” Ian clarified

Mickey scoffed, “It'll always fucking matter, Gallagher. It just wasn’t gonna make any difference?”

Ian considered his words and understood the nuance.

“So, why tell me now?” he asked quietly.

The silence was heavy. There were thousands of words between them that needed to be spoken, and none of them would make any difference. Both Ian and Mickey knew that.

But Mickey answered the question because it mattered, “Because I wanted you to know. I couldn’t give you what you needed, Ian. I didn’t have shit when you were here, and we both knew, in the end, it was never gonna be me. You were leaving, and I knew that.”

Ian knew he was right. He had his head set on leaving Chicago, but Mickey was wrong about one thing – Ian had always hoped it was going to be him. If only things had been… 

No, he told himself. This wasn’t the time for “Ifs.” If Mickey wasn’t afraid to be who he was, things could have been different – But Mickey was afraid. If Mickey had told him he wanted more, then maybe Ian would have stayed with him – But Mickey didn’t tell him. If Mickey had his shit together, maybe they could have figured this out together – But…

When Ian didn’t answer, Mickey spoke up. “Shit… you know what, just forget all this shit ok? I’ll talk to you later.” 

Mickey hung up the phone. It took all the courage he’d had to make that phone call, and he reminded himself that even if it didn’t make any difference now, Ian at least deserved to hear the truth. He lifted Yevgeny from the center of his bed and took him back to Svetlana’s room for the night.

“Hey Svet…” He said, nudging her shoulder, “I’m headed out for a while.” He just needed a few minutes of space away from everything. He needed to be away from everything that reminded him of why Ian was gone.

Ian sat on his bed and thought about what Mickey said. It wouldn’t have made a difference, but it mattered. Something in that didn’t sit right with him. He went back folding shirts, replaying what Mickey had said a hundred times in his head and wishing he had known what to say back. When he finished packing his bag, he went downstairs to check for any last items he might have forgotten, when it came to him. He dialed Mickey back as he ran outside to grab a hoody he’d left in Lip’s car.

Mickey turned down the familiar street that led to Ian’s house, putting on his blinker to turn at the corner just before he actually passed the house. Almost driving past Ian’s house wasn’t as pathetic as actually driving past his house, Mickey reasoned. When his phone rang, he didn’t bother to look at it, assuming it was one of his brother’s late-night calls.

“Yeah?” Just then he saw Ian walking out of his front gate.

Ian looked up toward the loud music coming from the corner where a set of bright headlights sat at the stop sign a few seconds too long, and he got wary it might be trouble. Mickey answered – the music in the car lowered, but in the background on the phone, Ian could still hear the same song playing. 

“Mickey, it would have made a difference.” He blurted out, wanting to make sure he said what he needed to say. He could hear the music. Ian looked back up at the car still sitting there and asked, “Where are you?” 

Mickey kept his eye on Ian. If Ian didn’t already know it was him, he would the second Mickey turned the corner and Ian got a good look at the car.  
Lie. LIE! But Mickey’s mind went blank. 

“Uhm… just nothing. I mean… just driving.” 

Ian smiled. Mickey saw him and he knew he’d been busted.

“You wanna come by?” He asked, walking back into his yard, leaving the gate open behind him. He hung up the phone without waiting for an answer and went back into the house.

A few seconds later, Mickey was parked and jumped from his car. He looked around the street, reminding himself to act casual, then walked across the street to the Gallagher house as if he didn’t know Ian was standing right inside waiting for him. When he remembered Mandy was there, he almost changed his mind, but the lights in the house were off, so he took the porch steps in double time and went in.

\---------------------

“I’m gonna go grab my smokes. Want anything?” Lip asked, pulling up his boxers.

Mandy grabbed his t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over her head. “No, I’m good,” she said with a satisfied smile.

He went down the back steps to the kitchen to grab the pack he’d left on the table when the front door opened. It was just Ian. He grabbed his smokes and was looking around in the dark for a lighter when the door opened again. He stopped to take a look. 

Even in the dark, with just the street lamp glowing through the front window, Lip could recognize the infamous little South side thug as he sauntered into the living room like he owned the fucking place. Mickey didn’t say a word. He just walked straight to Ian, sure as can be, and kissed him.

Lip took a giant, quiet step towards the steps, hoping he hadn’t been seen, but by the way Ian and Mickey were kissing, he was sure he hadn’t. He knew he should leave and give them some privacy. He wasn’t supposed to see that, but he couldn’t look away. 

Mickey wrapped his hand around the back of Ian’s neck and pulled him closer, holding him tenderly, and Ian did the same. The distance and pain that had separated them for nearly a year melted away as they clung to each other like drowning men to a lifeboat.

Lip headed up the stairs as quietly as he could, sneaking back into the room and closing the door quietly. He fell onto the bed.

“Did you get them? Give me one.” Mandy said, wondering why he didn’t already have one lit and ready.

“Uh… oh, shit. I forgot to grab the lighter.” He could hear the squeaking floorboards as Ian and Mickey made their way up the stairs.

Mandy rolled her eyes, “I’ll get it. I need a glass of water anyway.”

Lip grabbed her arm and pulled her back hard onto the bed, startling her. 

“Hey!” But he cut her off with a kiss and waited until he heard Ian’s door close before letting her go. She giggled when he let her up. “Someone’s feeling frisky tonight.”


	24. Chapter 24

They never said a word. There were a thousand words between them already, and they both knew words weren’t what they needed right then. Mickey pushed each shoe off as he closed the bedroom door, never letting go of Ian’s hand.

Ian pulled Mickey close, taking his time to unbutton his shirt as he kissed him. He took a half step back, running his hands across Mickey’s thick shoulders and down his arms – god damn he missed those arms – then let the shirt fall away. Ian pulled him in again, tasting him slowly. His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure Mickey would hear it. He kissed Mickey deeper, not even pretending to hide how much he needed him… how much he’d missed him, making sure Mickey knew that even after all this time nothing had changed for him.

Mickey pulled back, his eyes on Ian as they stood nose to nose. An internal struggle waged as he weighed everything he knew he should do – walk away, don’t fall, end all of this with that perfect goodbye kiss – against all that he wanted.

In true Mickey fashion, he did what he always did – he let his heart overrule his head.

“I love you,” Mickey said, so quietly.

Ian’s heart skipped. He nodded, wide-eyed, sure he’d imagined it, but not sure at all.

“I love you too.”

***  
Mickey woke in the middle of the night with Ian’s arm wrapped around him snugly. He moved it carefully, rolling to sit on the edge of the bed while Ian readjusted beside him. Mickey watched him for a minute, running his hand through Ian’s hair gently, taking care not to wake him.

Ian was leaving, and there was nothing Mickey could do to change the life he’d created for himself. There was nothing he could give Ian – not back then, not now. He leaned over and kissed Ian’s head, then gathered his clothes and slipped out the door.

\----------------  
  
Addiction was as familiar a thing to Mickey as breathing. He’d grown up with it, watching his mother’s slow descent into hell until all that was left of her was the dip on the sofa where she sat for hours every day and the crack pipe she left on the floor when she finally surrendered. She had been soft, in every way. His father was not. Terry Milkovich was filled with rage and hate, and Mickey was sure it was exactly those two things that had kept him from the same fate as his mother – Terry was too fucking mean to die… not that Mickey hadn’t wished for it more than a dozen times.

It was an entire childhood of living as a child of addiction that drove him to the same things… anger, fighting, drugs… fear. As he sat on the living room floor, bloody and lost, it was finally the fear that drove him to ask his brother for help. Collin went outside and told Mandy and Svet and a few onlookers to get the fuck out of there, and once they were gone, he walked his brother out of the Milkovich house.

That was the last day Mickey had lived in that house. He spent the next three months with his arms crossed and his head down, going through the motions, regurgitating the 12 step bullshit mantras, and cursing his fucking existence for all the things he knew rehab would never fix. There were parts of him that couldn’t be fixed… parts of him that ached for attention. And those parts could never be permanently silenced with a sponsor or a meeting or counting backward from ten.

Those parts lived so deeply within Mickey’s own being that no matter how long he went, he would still want...

The past six months had been hard, but each day had gotten easier. The further Mickey got from his old life, the more he wanted what he had in his new life – a son he loved, a job that paid his bills and wasn’t going to get him thrown in jail, a house without violence – and he worked hard every day to stay on track. He was doing fine until he saw Ian.

Then the itching was back. He became restless, waking all night, pacing the house with his son then going to work the next day, only to do it all again the next day. His body was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t stop running. His fingers twitched, his brain fucking itched, he counted backward from ten, then twenty, then fifty. He called his brother but didn’t know what to talk about, so he hung up. Fifteen minutes later he called him again. Collin got concerned.

“Mick, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah… I’m good. Just tired. Haven’t slept much.”  
  
Collin could hear it in him.

“You need me to stop by? I gotta do a run, but I can stop by tonight.”

Mickey rubbed at his nose, ran his hands through his hair, and cursed himself for being a fucking pussy who couldn’t handle his fucking shit. Get it together, bitch!

“Nah, man. I’m good, really. I just need to sleep. Gonna stop at the store on the way home, then pass out.” He really believed it too.


	25. Chapter 25

It started snowing around noon, so the foreman called it a day. He distributed checks, handing Mickey an extra envelope of cash for a side job he’d done over Christmas. Mickey did what he said he was going to do. He went to the store to cash his check, picked up a box of diapers and formula and a few other things Svet had texted. He checked his wallet and counted the cash, and wondered how many diapers he actually needed, then went back to the baby aisle.

When he got home, he kicked the door open with his foot as he came in, arms full with cases of diapers and extra formula, dropping bags as he entered.

“The hell is all this?” Svet asked, jumping from the sofa to help him.

“Just wanted to make sure we had enough.” He said. It was two weeks' worth of supplies, maybe even three. “I didn’t want to have to keep running to the store.”

She started putting it all away, not sure where she could fit all the formula. 

Mickey went into her room to check on his son, rubbing his tiny belly as he slept. He reminded himself that every day he woke up and did this whole routine again was so that he could give Yevgeny what he never had himself as a child. Yevgeny was wearing the Carter’s jeans and plaid flannel shirt Ian had given him, looking every bit Mickey’s twin at that moment. Mickey’s brain wouldn’t stop itching. He bent to kiss his son and left.

“I’m gonna be gone for a while.” He said to Svet. He pulled his wallet out and tossed the rest of his paycheck onto the table, then went to his own room. “I’m taking the car, so if you need anything, call Collin. I’ll have my phone with me.” 

He pulled a box from the closet – cash and his gun. 

“Where are you going?” She demanded. Svet never asked anything – she either told you what the fuck she wanted or she demanded answers. It used to bug the fuck out of Mickey, but he learned to respect that about her. She’d had a hard life, and she was sick and tired of asking for shit, and he could appreciate that.

“Out.” He counted out cash – one hundred, two, three… He fanned through the rest to make sure there was plenty left for emergencies. Svet watched him, and he could see the worry in her eyes, even if she wouldn’t say it. “I just got something to take care of Svet. I need to do this.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EQrsk1bpBz4

Ian walked across the base, ready for the week to end. His trip home had been good – healing even – but he threw himself into work and training when he got back to Ohio determined to push forward. He woke up each day and told himself that this was what he wanted, so put the rest of it out of his mind. 

But Mickey was always there. Not in the back of his mind… that would have been easy. No, Mickey lived in every cell of Ian’s being. If Ian hurt, it was because of Mickey. If Ian smiled, it was because of Mickey. Everything he did, good or bad, he wanted to pick up the phone and share it with Mickey, and sometimes he almost did. He opened his phone to Mickey’s number at least two dozen times that first week he was back on base, but each time he just stared at the screen a few minutes, then turned it off. It would have to be enough.

The weather was turning and he was happy he had the weekend off. He planned on sitting around in his sweats all weekend, eating pizza, and playing video games. But first, he promised Mandy he’d call her back when he was done working. He dug his phone out of his bag and powered it on. After a few seconds, the typical buzzing began, delivering his daily notifications from her texts. He didn’t bother to check them, knowing she would just repeat the entire day’s text when they talked. He unlocked the door to his room as he dialed her back. 

“Hey, Mands! Just got back… Hey, whoa… what’s wrong?” Mandy was screaming at someone in the background to shut the fuck up and let her think - her tone alarming Ian immediately

“Fucking Svetlana! She’s been at my house for ten minutes freaking out because Mickey disappeared.”

“What? What do you mean disappeared? When? How long?” Ian threw his bag to the floor and wondered what he could even do from so far away. He could take a bus! He could get on a bus and be home by morning and help them look for him. He could hear Svetlana speaking Russian loudly in the background as Mandy tried to talk to her.

“I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE SAYING!” Mandy yelled. “Ian, let me call you back!”

“No! Mandy, don’t hang … shit!” 

He almost called her back, then stopped and found Lip’s number instead. He nearly pressed the call button, then immediately hung up. What the fuck was Lip gonna do? Him and Mickey were semi-friendly. They had a love-hate relationship, leaning much closer toward the latter, and the only bonding experience they really shared was the one where they went on benders and got smoked all weekend long. 

Ian was beginning to panic waiting for Mandy to call him back. He called the only person he could think of, which was fucking stupid given neither Svet nor Mandy could find him – he called Mickey.

The phone only rang once before Mickey answered. 

“Took you fuckin’ long enough to call me back, bitch,” Mickey said. 

He sounded fine. Sounded alert. Didn’t sound in any kind of mortal danger at all. Was he supposed to call Mickey… back?

“Mickey?”

“Don’t you even know who you called? Been sitting here for an hour waiting on your ass.” 

Ian wondered if Mickey had mistaken him for someone else. “This is Ian.”

“I know who the fuck you are! What’s wrong with your ass? You high or something?”

“I’m confused,” Ian said. “Why were you waiting for me to call you back?”

Mickey hesitated a minute. Hadn’t Ian received his text? “What the fuck are you talking about, Gallagher? Now I’m confused.”

“I just talked to Mandy. Svetlana (he’d never said her name out loud before) ... uh… your wife is freaking out looking for you.” He heard Mickey let out a frustrated sigh.

“Let me call you back… fuckin’ bitch won’t leave me the fuck…” He hung up.

Ian was thoroughly confused. He sat on the edge of his bed and opened his notifications…. Mandy Mandy Mandy Lip Mandy Mickey Mandy… wait… Mickey!

Ian opened the text he’d received while he was still at the shooting range: “Where the fuck are you? Call me.”

He and Mickey hadn’t spoken since he left Chicago, but before Ian could begin to wonder why Mickey was looking for him, his phone rang again.

“Mickey?”

“Miss me?”

Ian smiled. He had. 

“What’s going on? Is everything ok? Did you call Mandy?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Svet’s freaking the fuck out because she thinks I took off to get high or something. Told her to chill the fuck out – I’m fine.” 

Ian wondered why anyone would care if Mickey was high – Mickey was almost always high. Then it dawned on him – the two times he’d seen Mickey in Chicago, he had been clear, present – dare Ian even say he had been sober? No… Mickey would have never touched him the way he had if he was sober.

“Ok… good, I guess. I just saw your text. What’s up?”

Mickey hesitated. He’d driven six hours, most of it through the snow, but now that he was there, he was beginning to second guess his decision. His fingers twitched and he bit at his lip. 

“You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Good. Tell me how to get to your fucking dorm room or whatever the fuck it’s called. I’m sitting at the La Quinta Inn right outside your base.” The itching in Mickey’s brain began to settle as he realized his fix was on its way. All he needed was Ian… Ian was all he ever needed.  
Ian ran the mile and a half to the base gates. He cleared security and looked around – half a block away, Mickey leaned against the hood of his car, arms crossed and that little scowl on his face that Ian loved so much. Ian took his sweet ass time and walked to the car, trying not to smile. Trying not to smile. Trying and failing, because his whole fucking face was beaming.

As he got closer, Mickey walked away to jump into the driver’s seat, and finally, Ian stepped up the pace and jumped in the passenger door beside him, that stupid grin still on his face as he closed the door. 

“Let’s ride.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Os9QQW6G6JA

Mickey pulled away, spinning his tires and flipping off the guard who had been standing watch over his car for the past 15 minutes. He reached over and wrapped his fingers around Ian’s, moving both of their hands to the gear shift as he hit 5th gear.

They didn’t stop for food. Mickey drove straight to the motel. They walked in, side by side, both of them fully feeling themselves, standing a mile high. Mickey pushed the elevator button, but before the door opened, he pulled Ian to him and kissed him – On The Mouth! It was fast and simple and ended almost immediately as the doors opened. It was Ian who looked around the lobby nervously this time. He was less than a mile outside his base, and regardless of the new military rules, he knew the shit he would take if anyone saw him kissing another man. There was no one there – of course, there was no one there. Mickey would never have made that move if he had an audience. Ian relaxed again as the elevator led them up to the 4th floor.

The door to the room hadn’t even closed before Mickey was pulling Ian’s jacket and clothes from his body. The need, the ache, the itch inside of him was buzzing now as high as it ever had, screaming for relief. Ian was his addiction and had always been. When they were teens, he wanted Ian, but it had taken Mickey years to build the courage to do anything about it. Instead, he just kept Ian nearby while also keeping him at a safe arm’s distance at all times. Mickey numbed that desire with drugs and alcohol, first telling himself it could never happen, then slowly beginning to ask himself ‘how can I make this happen?’ In the end, after every failed attempt on Mickey’s part, it was finally Ian who had the courage.

Once they were finally together, the drugs had all but stopped for Mickey. Things had been good. The itching and longing had stopped. It stayed that way until the night he walked out on Ian, then the roller coaster began again.

Now, there were no more drugs to numb him. His son kept him sober, but the longing for Ian never stopped. It ached in his bones every minute of the day, and Mickey finally realized he had to be the one with courage now. He had to be the one to make the first move.

He pushed Ian down onto the bed, standing above him, breathing hard, telling himself to take this slow – savor it, because after this it had to end. Ian pulled his shorts off his legs, his dick now at full attention as he waited on Mickey. Mickey smiled, laughing a little on the inside because he knew he was fucked – it was never going to end. He finished undressing and climbed on top of Ian, straddling his legs on each side of Ian’s, stretching his skin along Ian’s as he kissed him. Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, pressing him down hard, dick to dick, pulling his cheeks apart and squeezing, and Mickey knew, this was only the beginning of who they would become.

They fucked hard, like in the beginning, pounding the headboard on the wall and not giving a flying fuck who heard them. Ian took Mickey to the edge over and over, holding him there until he was nearly begging for relief, then when he’d spent every ounce of energy he had in him, he finished Mickey off right, with his dick deep down Ian’s throat and his hands pulling at Ian’s hair as he moaned with pleasure.

“Aaaauufuuck…”

Ian hollowed his cheeks and pulled away slowly, popping his lips off Mickey’s dick, licking and sucking every last drop of cum, then kissing Mickey’s thick thighs that were wrapped around his neck. Mickey’s fingers stayed in his hair, neither of them ready to move much further. Ian wrapped his arms underneath Mickey’s legs and held him there a moment longer, then made his way back to where Mickey’s head lay hanging off the side of the bed.

“Jesus Christ…” That was all Mickey could say. His eyes were closed and he was already starting to drift away.

“Come here.” Ian pulled him to the top of the bed and pulled a blanket up to their waist. He leaned in, getting one last exhausted kiss from Mickey before he rolled away to fall asleep. Ian was nearly asleep himself when Mickey reached for him and pulled him in to be the big spoon. For the first time in months, Mickey slept through the night, barely stirring, and Ian felt completely whole again.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=w9hnq0pnWGQ&feature=share

The weekend went exactly as Ian had hoped – there was pizza, and a video game console they rented from the front desk, but there were almost never any clothes. They fucked on the floor and the bed, on the upholstered chair by the window and in the shower, against the bathroom sink and the hotel room door. 

The second night they made love. Gun to head, Ian would admit those were his favorite moments with Mickey – when it was soft and slow, and Mickey opened up his legs and let Ian take him eye to eye. He loved the way Mickey kept his mouth on him the entire time, kissing, biting, sucking – while his hands pulled Ian in as if he could never get him deep enough. Those were the moments Ian lived for.

After, Mickey sat on the edge of the bed checking messages on his phone, assuring Svetlana he was still alive and sober, while Ian laid next to him watching I Love Lucy reruns.

“Hey, Mick.” He said cautiously.

“Hmmm.”

Ian paused, then went for it. “Tell me about Svetlana.”

“What’s to tell. She’s Russian. She’s mean as fuck… but she’s a good mom.” He set his phone on the bedside table.

“No, I’m serious,” Ian said, clicking the tv off with the remote. He looked at Mickey nervously, then quietly added, “I don’t want to hate her.”

Mickey rubbed at his eyes. He didn’t want to do this. He shouldn’t have to do this, but if this wasn’t the end with Ian, then he knew he had to answer. 

“Svet isn’t bad. Fuck, she’d probably love your ass.” He took Ian’s hand and thought of what he should say. “She wants to be married to me about as much as I want to be married to her… but Yevgeny, you know?”

Ian nodded. “Where did you meet her.”

Mickey pulled the blanket down and crawled in close and wrapped his leg around Ian’s as he propped himself up on elbows.

“I left the house that night, remember? And I fuckin’ knew I could go back to find you later and just keep… I don’t know – waiting for it all to come crashing down on me – or I could just fucking tear everything apart myself. So, I did what I do best. I fucking ruined us.” He pulled Ian’s hand to his lips and kissed it, then laid next to him to finish his story. 

“I was out at the docks getting high, snorting everything I had in my pocket – I had a lot of shit on me that night – anyway, the rest is kind of a blur. All I really remember was walking back to the house and I see this guy beating the shit out of some woman so I went over there and beat the shit out of him. Pretty soon, the fucking cunt he was trying to kill starts jumping on me screaming ‘You’ll kill him, stop!’ She was probably right too – I was in the mood that night to hurt someone – it was either gonna be me, you, or him, right? 

“So, anyway, she’s pulling me away saying the cops will find us if we don’t leave. And now she’s hanging all over me like she’s gonna fuck me right there on the street or something and I realize, this bitch is a prostitute! She followed me home, talking her Russian gibberish the entire time, and when we get back to the house…”

He bit the corner of his lip nervously. “I didn’t know if you were still there or not, but if you were, I wanted to make sure you got the message, you know? So, I took her in, tearing her fucking clothes off right there in the living room on the way to my room. Didn’t even bother to look around for you, because it didn’t fucking matter at that point. Wasn’t ‘til later Mandy told me you’d gone home right away, so now I’m thinking I did all that fucking shit for nothing.

“Next day I figured I had to go back out and get my fucking car that I left somewhere…” Mickey went on, telling Ian about Svet staying glued to his side, and how he let her because he still had a message to send.

“I know it was the wrong fucking thing to do, Ian. I wish I could take that back, but I can’t.” Ian kissed him, and Mickey went on. Three times, that all that they had ever fucked, him and Svetlana. He said it must have been that first night when he was so high that he forgot to wear a rubber, and the one that got her pregnant, ‘cause the other two were up the ass, and last he heard that didn’t make babies. “Fucking hope not, or you and I are about to have a fuckin’ litter.” He joked.

“Why did she stick around after that?” Ian asked. He knew the answer, but he still wanted to hear it.

“You. She didn’t have anywhere to go, and I didn’t want you to come back.” Ian felt the sadness in Mickey’s voice down to his soul. 

“Ian, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. Svet and me… We’re not together. She has her room, I have mine. When she’s can finally get a fucking green card, we’ll be done, ok? If I had some way to fucking fix this, I would, but I won’t lie and say I regret it. I have a fucking son, and no matter how he came to this world, he’s here now, and I’m so fucking happy he is.”

All the words were gone. No more were needed. Ian kissed him, letting him know it was all ok. 

“Ok. Then we won’t talk about it anymore.” 

“I want him to know you,” Mickey added. He didn’t know how that was supposed to happen. Ian belonged to Mandy, and he didn’t even exist in Mickey’s atmosphere as far as anyone else could see. “I don’t know how yet, ok? I just know I want you to be a part of this.”

Ian couldn’t see a way beyond the four walls they were sharing right then, but he knew Mickey always gave him everything he had to give, and that would always have to be enough.

They ate breakfast at an IHOP near the base. Ian ate down his entire skillet breakfast with a side of pancakes, then finished the pancakes Mickey hadn’t touched yet. Mickey had borrowed a pen from the waitress and was jotting something down on the back of a windshield repair flyer he’d found stuck to his car. When they were done, he drove Ian back to the base, parking far enough away that they could sit without eyes on them from the security gate. Neither wanted the weekend to end.

“Am I gonna see you again?” Mickey asked, looking down at his hands.

“Every single fucking chance I get,” Ian said without hesitation. “I got a long weekend coming up in a few weeks. I’ll take a bus back to Chicago.”

“No. Don’t do that.” Mickey wanted Ian to himself, and Chicago wasn’t the place for that. “I’ll see what I can do – maybe come out here again. Or meet you in the middle.”

Ian understood. “K. You should probably get going so you can get home before it’s too late.” He leaned in and kissed Mickey goodbye.   
“Tell Yevgeny hi from me.”

“I’ll call you later, you can tell him yourself.” Mickey watched Ian in his rearview mirror as he jogged back to the Army base gates. When he could no longer see him, he went home.

***

“Where you been, you fucking ass! You disappear and abandon your son and…”

“I didn’t fucking abandon anyone, bitch. I told you I had something to take care of.” He took his son from her and walked away. 

Svet wasn’t done yet – she continued harping, wanting to know what was so important that he couldn’t answer his phone. Mickey took a deep breath, talking only to Yevgeny as she ranted, trying to stay patient. 

“Will you shut the fuck up? I swear to god, this poor kid has to constantly hear your bitching and moaning when I walk in the room!” He finally snapped. “Every fucking time, Svet! You can’t keep doing this every damn day – if it wasn’t this it would have been something else. If you’re not fucking happy, there’s the front door, bitch! Use it. But he stays, got that? You won’t take my son one fucking step out of this house again if you leave.”

By then, Yevgeny was crying. “See! Do you see what this does? You need to stop this shit, Svet. This is a fucking contract – you and me – not a marriage. You don’t fucking love me, and we both know how I feel about you, so stop acting like my fucking wife and at least someone I don’t fucking hate every time I walk in the door.” He bounced his son in his arms trying to calm him. “Goddammit, Svet!” Then walked to his room with Yevgeny and slammed the door.

Hours after Yevgeny had been bathed, fed, and put to bed, Svetlana came knocking on Mickey’s door.

“What.” Jesus Christ here goes round two, he thought.

“I want to talk.”

“No. I’m done fucking fighting tonight.”

“No, talk.” She sat at the foot of his bed and waited for him to put his phone down and pay attention. When she didn’t leave, he tossed his phone aside.

“Ok...Talk.”

“You are right. This is not a good place for my son.” She said.

“OUR son. And if you fucking think you’re taking him out…”

“Shut up for one minute and let me talk. I’m not taking him anyplace. He needs you. I need you, much as I don’t want to say or admit. I have nowhere and no one, and even if it is just a ‘contract’ as you said, you’re the only family I have.” Mickey waited for the other boot to drop. Svetlana never showed signs of vulnerability, so he knew there was a knife waiting to stab.

“You have someone?” She asked. He stayed quiet. “I assume you do because you were only answering my texts late at night, maybe after you’re done fucking.”

He looked away.

“I don’t care. I have someone too.”

“What?” Mickey asked, offended. “Who? When?”

“Does that make you upset?” She asked, surprised by his reaction.

“No… I just… Who?”

“Nika.”

“Nika… as in the tiny little Russian cunt who comes over every day and lays around on the couch eating my fucking food when I’m at work? That Nika?” She raised her eyebrows and nodded. “Well, I sure as shit didn’t see that coming.”

“Nika has been with me many years, and she doesn't lay around all day. She helps me with Yevgeny and laundry and keeps me company when no one else is here.” She nodded toward the door, “Getting married wasn't exactly what I had in mind, but then the baby, you know?”

“Yeah. I was there, remember? So, what now?”

“I’m just saying I don’t want to hate you anymore, and I think you should stop hating me. I got pregnant and married to a man I don't like, but look at me now – an all-American housewife, raising my son with his father. Even if it is you, it’s better than going back to Russia or giving blow jobs for five dollars. How many people get so lucky?” 

“Five fucking dollars. Bitch, you need a new pimp.” He laughed, and Svet nodded and laughed as well. Mickey nodded his head and confessed, “Yeah… I got someone.”

“You can bring her home if you want. I think maybe we can still do this ok, don’t you?” She got up to leave. “I don’t hate you, Mikhailo. I’m just as stuck as you are. So, from now on, maybe we try to get along, huh? I appreciate…” She waved her hands around to show him. “everything. And you are a good father.”

She closed the door, and he grabbed his phone to call Ian.

“Hi, Mick.” He sounded like Mickey had woke him.

“Svet’s gay,” Mickey said… then started laughing.

“Huh?”

“Svetlana… she’s gay. A fucking carpet muncher!” He said. “She just told me she has a girlfriend.”

They talked another forty minutes, Mickey glossing over the details of Svet and Nika, and Ian giving him all the exciting details of polishing his shoes and getting his uniform cleaned and pressed for muster in the morning. They finished the last fifteen minutes or so talking about the new stuff Yevgeny was doing – grabbing.

“He’s so strong, got a grip on him,” Mickey said proudly. “Wait ‘til you see him. I think he gained another five pounds since Friday.” 

Before he hung up, Ian said, “I love you, Mickey.”

“Love you, too.” He ended the call. 

That was his new normal, Mickey thought to himself. Ending his night talking about his day and his son, then hearing someone tell him they loved him… He was good with it.


	29. Chapter 29

MANDY: After the new year, things kind of flipped all over for me. I started a new working as a receptionist in an office closer to home, so I was seeing Lip less than usual. On top of it, Ian was extra busy with training, talking about getting re-stationed by early summer, and the little time he had free in the evening was being split talking to both me and some new guy he was hooking up with. I wanted all the juicy details, but he wasn’t talking – said something about Don’t Ask Don’t Tell was really the best way to go for the moment, which told me all I needed to know – another soldier trying not to get hazed. 

“Is your new boooyfriend getting re-stationed too? You gonna bunk with him?” I was only teasing but I could tell by the tone in Ian’s voice when he answered that he must really like this guy, because he sounded a little sad.

‘No. He’s staying. He doesn’t know I’m leaving yet – not sure what to tell him.”

“Just tell him – he’s military. He’ll get it. Right?” 

“Well… he’s actually not military. He lives in Chicago.”

“Get the fuck out! Why didn’t you tell me that? Do I know him?” Of course, now I HAD to know. I tried the 20 questions route, but Ian cut me off before he even answered one. He was laughing but I could tell it was really bothering him.

“I really can’t say, Mands. I mean, you know how it is there … I’m sorry.” 

“Can you at least tell me how long you’ve been seeing him? Maybe I can narrow it down that way.” I didn’t actually expect an answer, but he humored me.

“Off and on for a few years.”

A few fucking years! MY best friend had a semi-serious boyfriend for a few years and this was the first time I was finding out about it… son of a bitch!

***

It was after nine before Ian was done with training. He’d forgotten his phone in his room, so when his day was done, he ran the entire distance from the training course to his barracks. Ten hours had never felt so long. No texts, no pictures of Yevgeny, no lunchtime phone calls, nothing. He knew he was going to catch shit from Mickey for ignoring him all day, too.

He tossed his gear onto the floor and went straight to his phone still charging on the desk, it’s little blue light flashing.

Mickey, Mickey, Mickey, Mickey, Mandy, Mickey, Mickey… He hit the call button as he scrolled through the texts – ‘Little shit was up all night’ ‘Sat 8 am don’t make me fucking wait’ followed by several pictures of Yevgeny and a picture of Mickey flipping off the camera ‘why the fuck aren’t you answering your phone.’

“Where the fuck you been?” Yevgeny was crying, making it hard for Ian to hear Mickey.

“What’s up with Yevy?”

“Ah, kid’s been shitting all over the place today. Think he’s coming down with something… Svet, just leave that. I’ll clean it up.” 

Ian could tell the call was about to be cut short, “Can I see him?”

Normally Mickey would just turn the camera on his phone any time Ian wanted to see his son, which had become a nightly ritual. Ian had even bought a Five-Minute Bedtime Storybook just to read to him each day, but Svet had never been part of the call before. Mickey hesitated, and Ian immediately caught on.

“Svet there?”

“Yeah.” Mickey’s tone changed. “Listen, let me clean up this mess and I’ll call you back as soon as he settles down, k?”

“Sure, Mick.” His disappointment came through louder than he’d meant. “I gotta jump in the shower anyway.”

Ian understood – he really did. After all, Mandy still didn’t know about Mickey, so why should Svetlana know? But the longer it went, the more it felt like a lie he wasn’t comfortable telling anymore.

Since their agreement to try not to hate one another, things had been better between Svet and Mickey. The pressure to put up a front that they were married in the most traditional sense was gone, and the fighting had finally settled itself to generally bickering typical of any couple who had grown to tolerate each other. Nika was spending more time at the house, even with Mickey there, and often spent the night, but Mickey had barely made Ian’s existence known. 

Svet knew they talked every night. Sometimes she could hear Mickey in his room on the phone – it was the tone in his voice that gave it away. She could never hear what he was saying, but his voice was softer, even when he was talking shit, she could tell it was all in good humor. Mickey only ever talked to Yevgeny that way. It bothered her at first that he would take Yevgeny with him, but Nika was quick to point out that Svet had no reason to be jealous, after all, Mickey watched his wife’s lover feed and bathe his son every day. The least Svet could allow was phone calls. Nika was right, and so she stopped worrying about it. Eventually, Mickey would bring the girl home for full scrutiny and inspection, and Svet could make a judgment call then.

“Was that the girlfriend?” Svet asked. 

Mickey side-eyed her but didn’t answer. He just went about cleaning up the soiled clothes and diaper as Svet rocked their son to sleep.

“Why haven’t you brought her home yet? I said it was ok.”

“Svet. Not now. I don’t want to talk about this shit.” He barked.

“I think it would be good for us to meet her. She knows Yevgeny, so why not his mother? Or does she not know you’re married?”

Mickey left to go put the clothes in the washer, hoping the conversation would die, but Svet was relentless. When he came back into the room, Yevgeny was sleeping in Svet’s arms, but she continued, only a bit more quietly.

“It is important to me, Mikhailo. Bring her this weekend.”

“Can’t.”

“Why not?” She demanded.

“Because I’m going there. They live out of state.” He looked at her impatiently, hoping that was the end of it, and after a few seconds when she didn’t continue, he was relieved that she was satisfied enough to stop talking about it. “Here, I’ll take him.”

He took Yevgeny back to his room and closed the door. He propped his phone against a pillow so the camera faced Yevgeny, then called Ian as he changed into sweats and a t-shirt.

Ian answered the video call to a close up of Mickey’s son’s face on his screen. 

“Hi, Mick.” He said quietly.

“Gallagher… where the fuck were you all day.”

“Forgot my phone this morning. Yevy ok?”

“Yeah, just sick. Svet finally got him to sleep. Listen, man. I’m not sure about this weekend. If he’s still like this by Friday, I’m not sure I feel good about leaving Svet to do this by herself. She’s barely getting any sleep as it is with him up all night.” The phone screen changed to Mickey as he crawled onto the bed with his son. He caught the disappointment on Ian’s face. “Shit, Ian. This sucks for me too, you know?”

“I can still come there?” Ian offered.

“Nah, if he’s sick, I won’t be able to see you anyway, you know. I’ll be here the entire time.” 

That wasn’t the answer Ian was hoping for, but he knew it was coming. Mickey still wasn’t ready for Svet to know about him. He nodded.

“Yeah, got it. It’s ok – Yevy comes first.”

“Come on Ian, don’t be like that.” 

“No, I didn’t mean it any way… I agree with you. Really.” He knew the distance between them was hard on both of them. “I’m just tired… had a long day. I should probably go to bed. I have to be back by 4 and I’m wiped out. Give him a kiss for me.”


	30. Chapter 30

By Friday, Yevgeny’s condition had worsened. Mickey got out of his car and he could hear his son’s distressed cries before he got to the door. When he walked in Nika was rushing around filling the diaper bag with extra clothes and formula and Svet was bundling Yevgeny up in a winter coat.

“Where you been?” She demanded. “Never mind. We have to go, right now!” She said, grabbing her son and heading for the car with Nika close behind. “Mikhailo, move your ass!”

“What the fuck’s going on?” he asked, leaving the house lights on and locking the door they loaded the baby into the car seat.

“Yevgeny needs to go to the hospital. His fever won’t go down and he is throwing up.”

Mickey had never moved so fast in his life. He got them to the emergency room as fast as possible, leaving the Nika to park the car while he and Svet ran inside. Even with a screaming baby who had a temp of 103, it took the ER an hour before they saw him. Mickey and Svet took turns walking him, trying to comfort him. Each time she took Yevgeny, Mickey went straight to the nurse’s station to bitch them out for not moving faster, demanding that they get a room, and threatening to kick someone’s ass if they didn’t find a doctor right then. It was the last one that got the police officer on duty’s attention. Mickey was warned if he didn’t take a seat and calm down, they were going to throw him out. The officer, with his hand on his Taser, along with Svet’s warning glare made Mickey take a step back, hands fisted at his side as he bit his jaw down hard and held his tongue.

“I need some fucking air.” He growled as he walked out the automatic doors. 

He needed a fucking drink, is what he needed. He paced the wall when Nika came out and offered him a cigarette. 

“Thanks,” Mickey said, lighting up and feeling the tiniest bit of relief as the smoke hit his lungs. “Trying to quit.”

“Why?” She asked amusingly. “You already quit everything else.”

“Yeah.” His frustration with the obvious was evident. “Ian says I’m gonna kill myself before the kid grows up if I don’t quit.”

“Who’s Ian?” 

Mickey’s stomach dropped. “Mandy’s friend.” He took another puff, then dropped the cigarette and walked inside without another word.

It was another thirty minutes before the nurse took them back to a bed, and even longer before the doctor came in. By then, Yevgeny had worn himself out crying and had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He was still burning up, even with the Tylenol and cold compress the nurses had given them. He had IV tubes coming from his legs and was stripped down to just a diaper. Svet came walking back into their room with a coffee for Mickey, with Mandy following.

“What’s she doing here… Where’s Nika?” 

“Nika went home. I called Mandy to let her know we were here.” Svet explained, taking the seat Mickey vacated for her.

“How’s he doing?” Mandy asked.

“They’re getting a room ready in the NICU. We’re waiting on lab tests to come back.” Mickey answered rubbing at his tired eyes. 

Mandy took a picture of Yevgeny and started typing something out on her phone. 

“Mandy! Don’t you dare fucking put that on Facebook!” Mickey warned.

She stopped typing. “I wasn’t! I told Ian I would let him know how Yevy was doing. Jesus, Mickey. Chill. I won’t send it.” She put her phone away without sending the text. 

Ian! With everything going on he hadn’t had a chance to call Ian. He’d meant to do it when they got the hospital but it had been chaos and confusion from the minute they got there and he never got around to it. He pulled his phone out and saw he had no service in the building.

“I’ll be right back. Come get me in the waiting room if the doctor comes.” He pointed to Mandy, making sure she heard him as he left. He walked around the waiting room trying to get enough bars on his phone to make a call when an orderly pointed out the Wi-Fi password for the hospital. A minute later he sat in a corner with his head in his hands as he waited for Ian to answer.

“Mick… Is everything ok? What’s going on, Mandy said Yevgeny had to go to the emergency room!” Ian blurted.

God, it felt so good to hear his voice. Mickey’s body started to shake as the stress settled for the first time in hours. He was a little choked up when he spoke. 

“We don’t really know anything right now. They got him hooked up…” He choked down a sob as quietly as he could, then continued, “They got tubes and shit coming out of his little body, Ian. I don’t know what the fuck to do.”

“Fuck, Mickey. What can I do? Do you need anything?” he knew it was a dumb fucking thing to say, but he felt helpless.

“No…we’re good. Just gotta hurry up and wait right now. I don’t think I’m gonna make it this weekend, though.” It had been more than a month since they’d seen each other, and much as Mickey had looked forward to seeing Ian, there was no way he could leave. Ian agreed. 

Mandy came into the waiting room, and Mickey had to cut the call short. “I gotta go. They’re moving him to a room now… Yeah. I will. Love you too.” He said quietly.

He hung up and tried to ignore the curious look Mandy was giving him as he passed by her.

“Wait a minute… who was that? Did you just say 'love you too?" Seriously, who the fuck was that, Mick?” Mandy asked jokingly, poking his arm which he jerked away from her. She had caught on to the whole Nika / Svetlana thing, so it wasn't a total shock that Mickey might be getting some on the side as well, but that whole 'love' thing caught her by surprise. 

“Mind your fucking business.” He said, making that the last of it.


	31. Chapter 31

Mickey was sound asleep on the pull-out couch in Yevgeny’s room, snoring loudly when Ian came into the room carrying a teddy bear and a cardboard tray of coffees. Svet sat up from the seat she was in next to Yevgeny, ready to tell him he had the wrong room when Mandy came in behind him with a bag of breakfast sandwiches.

Ian looked nervously around the room, avoiding eye contact with Svet, wanting to run to Yevgeny’s side to make sure he was ok, and wanting to go straight to Mickey at the same time. He set the coffees on a counter then introduced himself to Svetlana.

“Hi. I’m Ian. Mandy’s friend.”

Svet eyed him. She’d caught the glance he’d given Mickey walking in, and while that may not have been a tell-tale in itself, the fact that she’d heard his name dozens of times from Mickey’s room left her wondering exactly where Ian fit into his life. She took the hand Ian was offering and shook.

“We brought food.” Mandy held the bag out to Svet who took it gratefully. “When did he finally go to sleep?” 

Svet looked at Mickey, then quickly back at Ian who was caught with that longing look in his eyes again. “I think about an hour ago. He didn’t want to sleep but the doctor’s not coming back for a few hours so I told him to sleep while he can.” 

She looked at Ian again. He was visibly uncomfortable, not knowing what to say or where to look. He could feel her eyes on him and was making a clear effort of not looking back. 

“I should probably wait… I’m gonna go wait out here.” He finally said. He set the teddy bear next to Yevgeny on the bed, running the back of his fingers along his tiny arms. “It was nice to meet you.”

Svet kept her eyes on him as he left. Mandy was deep into the bag of food hardly noticing he’d left. 

“What is he doing here?” Svet asked. It came out more harshly than she’d intended, but Mandy figured it was because she was exhausted and worried about her son.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Svet. I picked him up at the bus station this morning, and he said he wanted to bring breakfast over for you guys.” She decided she should take her sandwich and coffee to go.

“Stay. Keep an eye on Yevgeny. I need to walk a minute.” She grabbed two coffees and a handful of cream and sugars from the counter and walked into the hall. Ian was nowhere to be seen so she went to the waiting room to look for him, and found him in the corner on his phone.

“I brought coffee.” She said, putting a cup on the table in front of him, and making him jump a little. “Thank you for breakfast. We haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.”

She made herself comfortable in a chair next to him, watching his every move, noting the way he glanced at her nervously, then busied himself mixing his cream and sugar. 

“You’re Mandy’s friend. From the Navy.” She stated.

“Army, actually. Yeah, I am.”

“Where are you stationed?” 

“Ohio. But just for a few months while I finish training. Then I’m not sure.” He kept his eyes on the muted TV screen. 

“And why are you home this weekend? Family plans?” 

Ian knew he was being interrogated. Even if the questions were simple, she hadn’t taken her eyes off him, and her tone clearly said she wanted answers. He realized that unless he gave her a reason to suspect, as far as Svetlana knew he was only there to see Mandy. He looked her dead in the eyes and smiled. 

“No. Just missed Mandy. Thought I’d come down to see how she’s doing with the new job.”

Svet smiled back. They sat there smiling at one another as if everything were just normal – and why shouldn’t it be? He was just Mandy’s friend. That’s what he’d said. After a few very long seconds, she looked away and surrendered, and not a second too soon because Ian’s smile was beginning to waver.

“So, Mandy told you my son was sick? The doctor said it’s pneumonia. That’s why they have him with the oxygen mask, to help him breathe.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I know Mickey… and you must be worried.”

“Mickey. Yes, he’s very worried, but they told us Yevgeny will be ok, so I’m a little better this morning.” She got up to leave. “I didn’t mean to be rude when you got here. I’m tired. It was nice meeting you, Ian. Why don’t you stay here and relax until my husband is awake? I’m sure he will be happy to see you.”

‘My husband.’ The words stung. Ian barely nodded as she left, a lump in his throat as the lie of omission weighed heavily on him. 


	32. Chapter 32

Mandy was long gone when Mickey woke up. Svet was sound asleep in the chair next to the baby’s bed. The clock on the wall showed it was already after 11, making him wonder why they didn’t wake him when the doctor came around for morning rounds. He looked at the nurse’s notes on the wall and not much had changed. There was a new nurse’s name and updated bowel movement log but everything else was the same. Yevgeny was sleeping restlessly, his little chest working overtime as his body twitched now and then from discomfort.

Mickey walked out into the hall in search of a strong cup of coffee. The nurse pointed to the waiting room, “There’s a machine in there and a couple vending machines.”

He walked in, thankful for the mostly empty waiting room, save the one guy…

“Ian?” Mickey said incredulously.

Ian jumped from his seat, pulling the earphones from his head. He wasn’t sure if being there was the right or wrong thing to do, but he couldn’t just sit in Ohio and worry. Mickey went to him, grabbing hold of him in a tight hug, giving Ian all the answer he needed.

“I was worried.” Mickey kissed the side of his neck and nodded, but didn’t say a word. Ian just held him as long as he needed. 

Nika stood at the window, with her hand on the waiting room door, watching as Ian kissed the side of Mickey’s head to comfort him, then walked back to the baby’s room. Svetlana was awake again, changing Yevgeny's diaper.

"Did you find him?" She asked.

Nika smiled. "Yes. He's with someone."

Mickey came back to the room alone with an extra coffee in case Svet woke up. When he walked in, Nika smiled, to which he responded with a suspicious frown. Svet was sitting in the chair feeding their son a bottle and she had a similar grin on her face as well. 

“The fuck are you two smiling about.” He grumbled. “Want me to take him?”

“No. He’s ready to sleep again.” 

Mickey looked at the nurse’s board again as if anything changed in the last fifteen minutes, then asked why she didn’t wake him up when the doctor was there earlier. Svet filled him in on everything, which was nothing new, then suggested he go home and take a shower and relax a little.

“I’m good. Just woke up.”

“I know. But we can’t both keep doing this. Go home. Relax, come back in a few hours and we’ll switch. You haven’t had a shower since you went to work.” She crinkled her face at him, and he sniffed under his arm and grimaced a bit as well. He was caught between not wanting to leave his son and finding a reasonable excuse to get out of there for a little while, both to clear his head and to see Ian before he had to leave again.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

“Good. Nika will stay here with me so you can have some quiet time. Go.”

He kissed his son’s head, looking at her suspiciously again. Why the fuck was Svet being so accommodating… and trying to get him to leave. 

I’ll see you in a couple of hours. Call me if anything changes.” He left the room and headed for the elevators. 

Nika stood at the narrow window on the door and kept her eyes on him, stepping back quickly when he glanced back once just before he reached the waiting room. When she looked again, Ian was walking out with his jacket in one hand. He reached up and quickly rubbed Mickey’s shoulder as they walked around the corner and out of sight.

“Well?”

“Definitely,” Nika answered. 


	33. Chapter 33

Ian drove back to Mickey’s house, grinding the gears just once and earning a “What the fuck, Gallagher! Who the fuck taught you to drive stick?” They both laughed at that, “Don’t fucking answer that… I don’t wanna know.” Mickey quickly added.

Ian looked at the three-story stone brownstone when they arrived, “You sure it’s ok if I’m here?” 

“Yeah, it’s fine. No one’s home, remember.” Mickey took the five steps down to the garden apartment on the bottom floor and unlocked the doors. Ian took a look around the street before he followed, just making sure the coast was clear then followed him in.

It was sparsely decorated with some familiar furniture from the Milkovich house and a few other pieces that looked like he’d bought them used. It was clean – definitely Svetlana’s doing, Ian thought to himself – and brightly lit with full-sized windows above ground. 

“Make yourself at home,” Mickey said. He tossed his jacket on the couch and kicked his shoes off. He appeared perfectly at ease with Ian in his and Svetlana’s house for the first time, but the truth was he was shaking like a fucking leaf inside. Ian put his jacket on a hook by the door and kicked his shoes off, keeping the small bag he’d brought with him over his shoulder. “Bathroom’s down there. That’s Svet’s room… kitchen…” 

Ian curled his arms around Mickey from being and kissed his temple. Mickey stopped talking and leaned into him, soaking in the comfort he had been needing. 

“You hungry? I could order a pizza or something?”

Ian shook his head and kissed him again, resting his lips there. “No. Just tired.” He’d been on a bus all night, barely dozing a few minutes here or there, then at the hospital all morning. He’d told Mandy he was heading home but ended up in a corner of the waiting room hoping to see Mickey before he left back to Ohio.

“Come on.” Mickey took him to his room. 

It wasn’t clean, but it wasn’t the disaster Ian had expected either. The dresser Ian remembered from the other house was there, only instead of a bong and beer bottles, it had half-empty glasses of water and an array of baby items. There were small piles of clothes tossed about, but the blankets on the bed were pulled up in an attempt to fix it quickly. Ian wondered if Mickey had done that himself or if Svet went in and did it for him. After meeting her, he decided she didn’t really seem like the type to clean up after Mickey.

Ian closed the door behind them then pulled Mickey to him for the kiss he’d been wanting and waiting on for weeks. “I missed you.”

He undressed to his boxers than laid on the bed, truly ready for a long nap. Mickey didn’t undress. He laid with Ian and stared at the ceiling holding his hand.

“I can’t believe you came all the way here.”

Ian pulled him close and kissed his forehead. “I’ll always be here if you need me, Mickey.” 

Exhaustion took him, and Mickey felt the weight of Ian’s arm around him get heavier and he fell asleep. Mickey stayed with him another half-hour as Ian slept, taking in all those tiny details he was once so familiar with but had now changed. It seemed like Ian had grown ten years in the last 12 months. Mickey moved his hands over the well-developed muscles in his arms, taking in his tight abs and chest. Even Ian’s face was different – his cheekbones and jawbones now fuller, with facial hair showing a full day’s growth. Mickey ran his fingers across the new whiskers – he liked the way Ian looked with them. 

\-----------------

When Ian woke, the winter sun was just going down. He walked into the kitchen pulling a shirt over his head and finding Mickey flipping burgers in a pan. The house smelled like fresh laundry and Mickey looked refreshed and much less anxious than he had earlier. 

“Smells good,” Ian said, kissing him quickly.

There were several burgers on the table wrapped up and ready to go.

“Svet called. Yevy’s fever broke.” He smiled. “Docs said they’re gonna keep him another day for sure, maybe two, but he’s gonna be good.”

Ian started getting buns ready for the burger’s Mickey was finishing up. 

“What time is your bus?” Mickey asked. “I can drop you at the station if you want.”

Ian got the hint. “Uhm… I haven’t bought a ticket yet. But don’t worry about it. I told Lip I’d be by the house tonight. He can drop me at the station tomorrow.”

Mickey turned, spatula and hamburger in hand, looking somewhat disappointed. “I’ll take you.” He said resolutely. “Wasn’t sure if you had to leave tonight or not.”

He finished packing their dinner and waited while Ian took a shower. When he was back with his things in hand, he asked, “Can you drop me at the house on your way?”

“No,” Mickey said, grabbing his coat on the way out the door. “Svet wants to meet you.”

  
“What? Why? Why does she want to meet me? I swear, Mickey, I didn’t say anything. I said hello, and then she started asking me all kinds of questions, but you know, just normal stuff. I didn’t tell her anything.” 

Ian jumped in the car, trying to gage Mickey’s mood about it all, but he didn’t seem nearly as panicked as Ian was. 

“Buckle up.” 

“Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck, I’m sorry, Mickey. You can just drop me at the house, then you can tell her whatever… you know? Just…”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Gallagher. Why don’t you just gift wrap your damn balls and give them to her when we get there. I know about as much as you do, ok? She called. She said Yevgeny was better. She said bring your boyfriend so I can talk to him.”

Boyfriend? Ian grinned and mused over that for a minute. Mickey reached over and squeezed his hand. Ian felt the way he gripped tight, wrapping their fingers together, and knew Mickey must be a nervous as he was, even if he was acting cool on the outside. 

When they arrived, Ian wanted to wait in the hall but Mickey said he wasn’t facing that crazy bitch alone, and grabbed his hand yanking him down the hall.

“Fuck you. I’m not doing this alone, bitch. Get your ass in there.” Mickey growled as he pushed Ian through the door first, then walked in behind him as if he owned the damn place – no reason to go in with a weak front, he figured. He was ready for whatever bullshit Svet was ready to throw at them.

Nika had her coat on and was there alone holding Yevgeny. 

“Where’s Svet?” Nika nodded to the light coming from under the bathroom door.

“Here. Take him.” Nika handed Yevgeny and his bottle over, then held her hands out. “I need keys to pull the car up. Where did you park?”

Mickey fished out his keys and told her how to get to the car, got comfortable in the rocking chair while he waited for Svet to finish up. Nika grabbed her purse, making sure Mickey was settled in, then grabbed Ian’s arm and started to leave.

“You come with me,” She said. “so, they can talk.”

Mickey nodded at Ian, and Ian left, relieved he didn’t have to face Svetlana yet.

Nika kept her hand on Ian, leading him down the hall. As they passed the waiting room, he went to turn, and she pulled him along. 

“No, you’re coming with me. Downstairs.”

“Uh… ok. Where are we going?”

She just smiled, leaving him immediately unnerved. He looked back down the hall toward the room one last time before they turned the corner to the elevators. 


	34. Chapter 34

Mickey rocked his son, getting more and more impatient as he waited for Svetlana to come out of the bathroom. He walked toward the bathroom, stretching the iv tubes as far as they could, but couldn’t quite reach the door with his foot to knock. 

“Svet. What’s taking so long? Hurry up - let's get this shit over with.”

Nothing. 

“Svet. Svetlana.” He looked down at his son who was talking and cooing in his arms. “What’s taking your crazy mama so long, huh?”

And then his heart dropped.

***  
The elevator doors opened on the first floor and Nika headed for the front doors, letting go of Ian’s arm at the coffee shop. “You go in there.” She instructed.

Ian’s heart dropped. He looked through the door and Svetlana was sitting at a table against a wall, legs crossed, looking every bit of the scary Russian bitch Mickey had said she was. He looked back for a little help from Nika but she was long gone.

  
“Shit.” Pull it the fuck together, Gallagher! You’re a soldier in the United States Army, trained to kill a man with your bare hands and take down the enemy! You can do this. He looked back at Svetlana, now looking at him impatiently and felt his balls shrivel up just a bit. He walked in.

“Hi, Svetlana. I thought you would be upstairs.”

“I thought you would be blonde.” He wasn’t sure if she meant it as a joke, but it made him smile none the less. “Sit.”

He took a seat, looked around for backup, and when he realized he was in it alone, faced her again. “Mickey said Yevgeny is doing better. That’s good.”

She just watched him.

“We brought some burgers too.” He rubbed his sweaty hands along his thighs, then looked at the menu on the wall behind the counter. “You want me to get you something to drink?” He went to stand and she barked. 

“Sit!” His butt hit the chair hard. 

“How long have you fucking my husband?” 

Oooh, ouch! Her knife was sharp. 

“I-I-I uh… I’m not fucking…”

“Yes, you are.” She interrupted. “I am not stupid.”

He took a deep breath and tried again, faster, “I’m not just fucking your husband. We’ve been together for a long time.” Finally, being able to say it out loud made him feel better – more confident. He took another deep breath, then looked her in the eye. “I love him.”

“Does he love you?” She asked. 

Ian could feel his confidence beginning to level the battlefield as her aggression seemed to wane a bit. 

He nodded, first unsure, then once again with confidence. “Yes. He does.”

She finally took her eyes off him and searched through her purse for something. “I hate hospitals. They don’t let you smoke.” She pulled a pack of gum from her purse and offered Ian a piece which he declined. She put a stick of gum in her mouth and carefully folded the wrapper over itself into a small square.

“Have you met my Yevgeny before today?” Ian nodded and she clarified, “I don’t mean on a phone call.”

“Yes. Right after Christmas.”

“What do you think of your boyfriend having a wife and a son?” She smiled as if this were some sort of trivia game. Now to find the correct answer, Ian thought.

“It’s not convenient,” he said honestly, “but it is what it is.”

“I hate that saying – it is what it is. Everything is what it is… but my question is how does it make you feel.”

Ian leaned forward and smiled at her facetiously. “Your question was what do I think. ‘How does it make me feel’ is a different question entirely. Semantics count.” 

Svetlana cocked her head, surprised at his bravado at first, but then he could practically see her cracking her knuckles ready to fight. This time it didn’t alarm him – he was willing to fight for Mickey.

“OK, Orange Boy. How does it make you feel that your boyfriend has a wife and a son.”

“I feel pretty damn good… about his son? I can see Mickey loves him more than anything or anyone else he’s ever loved, including me, and I feel happy that he has that in his life. I feel like I want to be there with both of them for as long as Mickey wants me to be.” 

He stopped. She smiled. “Finish.”

He knew what she wanted – she wanted him to tell her he hated that Mickey had a wife – he could see it in her eyes. That’s what she wanted so that she could tell Mickey he was a threat to their family. But the truth was, Ian didn’t feel that way at all.

“I feel like you and me could have gotten off to a better start if both of us had understood the situation a little better, but I met you during a really hard time for both me and Mickey so we didn’t get that chance.” He said at last.

She looked curiously, “What are you talking about?” She was sure she and Ian had never met before that day.

“Under the bleachers.” He reminded her. 

It took her a few seconds to understand, but he saw it in her eyes as soon as she did. He was older now, more muscular than the scrawny redhead she remembered. He nodded as the recognition became clear. 

“Mickey said you and I would probably be friends.” He added.

“When did he say that?” She asked.

“When I asked him to tell me about you… so I wouldn’t hate you.” He told Svetlana about the many nights he’d spent despising her existence since the first time he’d seen her, but when it was time to come to terms with accepting Mickey as a part of his life, that meant accepting all of it, including her. He told her about the great things Mickey said about her – she’s a good mother, she loves her son, she wanted them to be good parents, she understood their marriage was an agreement, for now, she could be funny when she wasn't scaring the shit out of him - Ian kept that last part to himself. “I feel like maybe he could be right… about us being friends… but that really depends on two things.”

The tables had turned. Ian was the one setting the conditions now. “First, and most importantly – You can’t tell anyone about me. No one. Not even Mandy. If the day comes that Mickey wants to say something, then he’ll do it. And if not, you have to be ok with it as much as I am.”

“Are you ok with that? Being his dirty little secret?” She asked.

“I’m no one’s dirty secret, Svetlana.” He said clearly, looking her in the eye. “You know as well as I do that Mickey, and your son, would be in danger if people found out about me. So… Can you do that?”

Ian had risked bringing Yevgeny into that, knowing that might be reason enough for her to put an end to him and Mickey. Svet considered it as well and realized that as long as Mickey was safe, so was her son. 

She nodded. “Yes, I can do that. What else.”

“I just want Mickey to be happy, Svetlana. And if he can have the best of me and life at home as well, then I’d really like for you and me to figure this out now.”

She didn’t answer. She closed her purse and started putting her jacket on, but he waited hoping she would agree. Before she stood to leave, she said, “I have one more.”

Ian nodded, assuming that was her way of accepting his terms.

“Mikhailo and I have to stay married. 3 years… maybe 5. If not, I could get deported and he could lose his son. If you try to destroy that, I will bury you. Understand?” She stood to leave without waiting for his reply, but he called to her before she walked out.

“Svetlana!” he met up with her at the door and held his hand out and smiled. “I’m Ian. It’s nice to finally meet you.” 

She smiled back and shook his hand, agreeing on the conditions of their life. “It’s nice to meet you too Ian. Be good to my husband… and my son. Or I’ll cut your balls off and feed them to you.” She winked, then left. 

Ian liked her. He liked her a lot.


	35. Chapter 35

Hours after Ian had returned to the room, with all appendages still intact, including Mickey’s favorite one, and a stupid grin on his face, Mickey had given up asking what had happened between him and Svet and instead began threatening both of them if they ever started ganging up on him for stupid shit. The only thing Ian had told him was “She promised not to tell anyone. Including Mandy,” and that was good enough for Mickey. He hated keeping Ian a secret, but the fear of being exposed outweighed everything else. Mickey was grateful Ian never asked him for more than he could give.

Yevgeny was asleep and Mickey was watching something on his phone as Ian emptied old papers and receipts from his wallet which had grown an inch thick. Mickey picked up the discarded papers to throw them, but Ian stopped him.

“No, don’t! None of this is trash. I need the receipts for work – taxes and shit.” He started flattening them out into a pile when he came to a folded flyer he’d been carrying for more than a month.

“I think this is yours.” 

Mickey unfolded the windshield repair flyer he’d been writing on during his last visit to see Ian and smiled. He'd tucked it into Ian's bag in the car that day, and waited for Ian to ask him about it several times, but when no question ever came, Mickey had forgotten all about it.

“I thought you tossed this.” 

“What is it?” Ian looked at it a dozen times trying to figure out what Mickey had been writing, but all it had on it was a bunch of random numbers.

Mickey took the rest of Ian’s loose papers and put them on the floor, then pulled Ian to sit back between his legs, holding the flyer out in front of them.

“Seven. That was how old you were when you took a tire iron to those two punks who tried to get Mandy. One of those guys kicked your ass, but not before you took the first one down, remember that?” 

Ian peeked back at Mickey and grinned, then kissed his boyfriend for remembering the first time he'd left his ass knocked out and bleeding on the grass. 

“Ok… what about this one?”

“459,282,129.” Mickey laughed. “That’s just an estimate, give or take a few million. That’s the number of times I should have kicked your ass growing up, but I let you live.”

“Bullshit! I call bullshit – you know I would have fucked you up!” Ian joked, poking Mickey with his elbow. 

“That’s what I was hoping for, which is why I didn’t kick yours.”

Ian pointed, “Seventeen.”

“Nah, skip that one.” He said, “Twelve. The number of asses I kicked because some fuckhead was flirting with you.”

Ian spun his head and caught Mickey biting his lip guiltily. “You did not!”

Mickey gave a little bob of his head, "You better fucking believe I did. Thirteen if you count Joe Baranski, but I was gonna kick his ass anyway. He owed me money, but it didn’t help that I saw you two walking off the football field laughing that day.”

“Are you shitting me? Joe Baranski is straight! Not once did he flirt with me."

"Yeah, well like I said, I was gonna kick his ass anyway, I just kicked it a little harder that time." Mickey laughed. 

"Wait a minute… Roger Spikey... Was that you?”

“You mean Rambo Retard? Yeah. Found him hiding in the closet with his fucking dick in his hand. He deserved it. What? You can’t seriously be mad at me for that now – that was like a hundred years ago.”

“He had two broken ribs and never talked to me again.”

“You’re fucking welcome, fucking ungrateful asshole. This one – fourteen… that’s when you had that stupid fucking crush on Justin Timberlake, remember?”  
“I never had a crush on him!”

“Bitch, please. Mandy told me you were gonna die your hair blond and perm it, but some chick ran you two out of the store before you could steal the shit.”

“Ok, maybe I was gonna die my hair, but not for that reason.”

“Yeah, well now I call bullshit – this ring a bell," Mickey began to do his best Justin imitation, “Don't want to be a fool for you, Just another player in your game for two…” Ian spun to cover Mickey’s mouth, but he kept singing, dodging Ian's hand as he tried to cover his mouth, and trying not to laugh too loudly, “You may hate me but...” 

Ian was straddling him now with his hand over his mouth as Mickey struggled to break free, still laughing. Neither noticed the nurse who had come in and was watching as she got a new IV bag ready to switch out. 

“No more… promise? I'm not letting go unless you promise."

Mickey couldn’t stop laughing, so he nodded and waited for Ian to release him. Before Ian got up, Mickey pulled him down for a quick kiss then pushed him off the pull-out bed they were sitting on. He sat straight up, sobering quickly when he saw the nurse there grinning. 

“Shit, sorry.” He apologized, his face heating up and his heart pounding. 

Ian was a bit more casual, still finding humor in the whole thing until he saw how uncomfortable Mickey was, then his smile began to fade.

“It’s ok. When I saw you last night, you looked like you could use a good laugh.” She said, going about her business as if their kiss was nothing out of the ordinary in her day. “I’m going to let him sleep for a while, but I’ll be back for his rectal temp in about fifteen minutes or so, ok?” She saw the look on Mickey’s face and mistook it for something else, “I’m hoping it won’t be as bad as last night, but who can blame the poor guy – no one wants to put things up their poor bottom, right?” She knew immediately that was the wrong thing to say. 

Ian had to walk away so Mickey wouldn’t see him trying not to laugh. The nurse decided she’d overstayed her welcome and quickly walked out, cursing herself for being so stupid. 

When she was gone, Ian stayed at the other end of the room leaning against the wall, watching as Mickey checked his phone, then his son, then the nurse’s notes on the wall, and finally, he looked over at Ian, half of him angry and the other half praying Ian understood. Ian only nodded, then dropped his gaze to the floor. 

“I’m gonna get something to drink? Bring you anything?” He asked Mickey.

“No… I’m good.”

Ian left the room and walked past the waiting area and kept walking. 

He understood. When they were near the Army base, he understood. When they were out on the streets of the South side, he understood. When they were around their families, he understood. Ian understood there was a time and place for total discretion, but in a private hospital room in downtown Chicago, he just didn’t understand why a nurse who seemed completely unfazed by their goofing around had to matter.

He returned twenty minutes later without a drink, but Mickey was gone. Yevgeny was still sound asleep and all alone. Ian was checking the bathroom when Mickey came in.

“I thought you left,” Mickey said, relief washing over him.

Ian shook his head, “Just stretched my legs.”

Mickey went to him, pulling him in for a kiss. He had left his son for just a minute to go see if Ian was in the waiting room and was starting to get scared that this time he’d really fucked up, but Ian was still there. 

The door opened, and the nurse quickly excused herself when she saw them.

“I’m so sorry, I seem to have horrible timing today.” She said, looking away as she stepped into the room. 

Ian pulled away quickly, but it only took Mickey a second or two to do it right this time.

“Don’t worry about it,” Mickey replied. 

He took hold of Ian’s hand and walked back to stand side by side with him before gently lifted his sleeping son. “Let’s see if we can do this without making him cry this time.”


	36. Chapter 36

MANDY: Lip and I were going to take Ian to the bus stop, but Sunday morning he called to say he had it covered. I hadn’t seen him since he left the hospital – I thought Svet scared him off, she has that effect on people. Plus I think he was just looking for an excuse to go spend some time with his “secret boyfriend” while he was in town. 

Yevy spent another two days in the hospital. It nearly killed Mickey to leave and go to work, but bills had to get paid. Svetlana had been talking about getting a job, but after the baby got sick, Mickey was too paranoid to have him with anyone else, so he took a second job to make ends meet, working construction during the day and as a bouncer at some club on the weekends. He hated that weekend job, but seeing him come home with those familiar bruised knuckles and a little skip in his step because he ‘could still kick ass’ put a bit of normalcy back into his life. It was good for him in other ways too – he was walking around with that little shit-eating grin I used to hate so much. I didn't realize I had actually missed seeing him like that, until he was back………………

***

“The hell happened to you?” Ian sat up in bed as soon as he saw Mickey’s face on his screen. He had a cut across one cheek and a bruise still blooming near his eye.

“Aah, some drunk fucker got a lucky punch in. It’s nothing.” He held a fist up to the screen, showing off the F U C K tattoos that donned his fingers, and a full set of freshly swollen knuckles. “Those are from the punches I got in, and you’d better fuckin’ believe it wasn’t luck.” He said proudly, making Ian chuckle.

“Nice!” Ian would be lying if he said seeing Mickey in his truest form didn’t completely turn him on. After all, it was the shit-talking south sider in Mickey that Ian had fallen for. “You should ice that.”

“Ice is for fucking pussies.” 

Ian heard the familiar sleepy squeak of Yevgeny nearby. “Yevy’s there?”

“Yeah, got home just when Svet was getting a bottle ready, so I told her to go back to bed. Just got him to sleep.”

“Let me see him… Wow, look at those jammies. He was too small for them last week and now he’s growing right out of them.”

“That might have more to do with me fucking up the laundry than him growing, but yeah, he’s putting on some weight.” Mickey kept the camera on his son as Ian talked to his sleeping son. “Miss you,” Mickey said quietly, as Ian continued.

Ian stopped, not sure if he should acknowledge what Mickey had just said. He decided better of it, “So’s that hand so swollen you can’t drive stick tonight?” 

Mickey turned the screen back to himself, “You fucking kidding me?” He jumped from the bed, dropping the phone, “Give me a sec – “ 

Ian caught flashes of Mickey carefully lifting his son from the bed, then stared at the ceiling view on his phone while Mickey took the baby to go sleep in Svetlana’s room. A minute later, he heard the bedroom door close and saw the overhead light turn off in exchange for the bedside lamp. 

“Hold up… almost done –“ He called out to Ian. He grabbed his phone and jumped back onto his bed, now child-free, no longer wearing the white t-shirt or sweats he’d had a few minutes earlier with an excited grin, wiggling his brows flirtingly. 

Ian was way ahead of him. He was sitting on the edge of his bed looking all but turned out as he waited for his boyfriend to get back. He had stripped his clothes off but was only visible down to the lowest part of his torso. 

“Aw, come on Gallagher. Show me the good stuff.” Mickey propped pillows behind himself and another in front to lean his phone against. He kept his eyes on Ian’s arm moving, but the goods were just off-screen. 

“You first Mick,” Ian said, biting at his lip, searching the bottom of his screen for the money shot. 

Mickey set his camera up, giving Ian the view he wanted, his thick thighs bent and open, his hand massaging his dick hard. Mickey kept his eyes on Ian, wishing they didn’t have to do this over a video call, but thanked Christ cell phones were invented so that they could.

Ian did the same, propping his phone against one of his long legs bent out in front of him. 

“I wanna see you on your knees,” he said. There was no asking. 

Mickey had protested that request once before, but Ian had won when he promised to make it worth Mickey’s while, and he had. 

Mickey immediately flipped himself over, repositioning the camera until Ian said it was just right. 

“Get the wand.” Ian’s voice was gruff and sexy. Mickey reached into the bottom drawer of his nightstand and come back with a thick veiny silicone dildo Ian had sent him a couple of months earlier. Initially, Mickey had said _no fucking way_ , but once Ian convinced him to just try it once, it had become one of Mickey's favorite possessions. 

He was back on his knees, squeezing lube on the dildo as quickly as he could.

“God damn, I love your ass, Mickey.” Ian praised. Mickey immediately rewarded him with a few tight clenches of his cheeks, then peeked around at the camera, sticking his tongue out and smiling. He caught sight of Ian’s dick, hard and ready as Ian slowly stroked himself and waited. 

“My ass loves you too.” He winked, then took the requested position once more and waited. “Let’s get this show on the road, Gallagher.”

Ian hated not being able to reach out and touch Mickey, but damn if he wasn’t grateful for being able to see him any time he wanted. Mickey was pulling at his dick in fast strokes, then pulled it down once more, slowly for the camera, giving Ian a view of his hard dick and ass in one shot.

“Mmm yeah, Mick… like that.” Mickey pulled again, then reached back to tease his balls. “Show me what I want, Mick – “ 

Mickey moved his hands between his legs, putting his middle finger up to flip Ian off, then slowly ran that finger along his perineum, rubbing slowly back and forth as he continued to massage his balls. Each time, he pressed his finger a little harder, pulling the ring of muscles of his ass. He planted his head into a pillow and used his other hand to pull his cheeks open, giving Ian a better view. 

“Yeah, like that… fuck…” Mickey pressed his finger down on his hole and pulled, then rolled it around the circle, then pulled again, and finally pressed the tip of his finger in. 

“Oh, Fuuuck.” Ian sighed, “I want to taste you. Lick you ‘til you’re begging me to fuck you. Dip my tongue in your ass and make you squirm…” Mickey pressed his finger in again, following Ian’s cues, rubbing himself with every imagined lick and pressing his finger deeper as Ian instructed. 

“Now two, Mickey.” Mickey pulled his finger out and lubed up again. Ian worked himself as he watched, Mickey fingers now back and pressing in two at a time, in then out, slowly making their way deeper. Mickey began rocking into it, lube glistening down his hand as he scissored his fingers and opened himself up for Ian. Ian was moaning out little satisfied remarks as Mickey worked, but then it all stopped. 

“I can’t fuckin’ do this,” Mickey said, pulling his hand free and turning over.

“Aw, come on, Mickey!” Ian whined, making sad faces at the screen as Mickey found a new position on his back.

“No, fuck that. I wanna see your fucking face when I come, bitch.” He hitched his legs up and one hand went back to work as he added a third finger up his ass, and the other hand now free to stroke his dick as he watched Ian. “I need to fucking see you, Ian." Ian re-positioned his phone for a better angle. "No, I didn’t mean to move your fucking camera, dummy! I meant I need to fucking _touch_ you.” 

With two jobs it had been impossible for Mickey to go to Ohio. He and Ian had met once in the middle, but even that had been difficult getting back to Chicago in time for his shift later that night. 

“I’ll come there,” Ian said, wanting to move on and talk about that later. “Get the thing, Mickey.” 

Mickey grabbed the dildo and squeezed a few more drops of lube on it then reached it around his legs and pressed the tip in slow. He wanted it now, hard, fast, and deep, making him groan, but he knew Ian loved watching it slowly disappear, and Mickey loved the face Ian got when it happened, so he went slow… at first. As Ian’s pace picked up, so did Mickey’s. They’d had plenty of practice with these calls by then, watching each other for visual cues as they worked themselves to pleasure the other. It always ended with a race to the finish line, Mickey slapping the dildo in his ass hard and deep, his eyes squeezed shut as he listened to Ian’s heavy breathing and hand slapping against his own dick. 

Ian never closed his eyes – he kept them on Mickey, watching both hands work, watching him press his head down hard into the pillow as he neared his climax, telling him, “You’re fucking beautiful, Mickey, fuck harder baby, harder Mick… “ And when it was time, Mickey would drop one leg onto the mattress and arch up into his climax, pressing the silicone cock in as hard as he could, once… twice… moaning softly as cum spurt in hot streams onto his belly, his jaw biting down hard as he huffed a breath. Ian loved watching him succumb to the pleasure, then dropping his hand from the dildo, allowing it to slowly make its own way out of him as he held that one leg to his chest. 

Ian continued to work himself, watching his boyfriend lay there breathing heavy, eyes closed, the last inches of the dildo slipped away.

“Auuhfuuuuck – “ He cried out quietly, Mickey opened his eyes then, looking at his phone as Ian tugged at himself, the pleasure and anguish washed across his face as he came. Mickey loved the total surrender in Ian as he milked the last drops of cum over his hand. At last, Ian fell back onto his pillow, hand pulling gently once last time. He reached for his phone and brought it to his ear, making Mickey laugh.

“It’s a video call, dumb ass.” 

“Oh shit, right.” Ian held the phone above him, now looking completely spent and satisfied. “Jesus, Mick. 

“Yeah, yeah… that was great. Don’t fucking say it, Ian. I need to see you. When can you get here?”

“I can get a bus next Friday after work. Be there by 3 a.m.”

“Good. I’m off at 2:30. I’ll pick you up.” He noted the current time on his phone, almost 4:30 a.m. “I gotta get some sleep, Ian. I’ve hardly seen my kid awake in two days. Wanna spend some time with him before work tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure. Send me pics tomorrow. Love you, Mick.”

“You too. Talk to you later.”


	37. Chapter 37

Mickey woke Ian just 4 hours later with a video call. Yevgeny was sitting in his high chair wearing only a diaper and a head full of orange mush smeared into his hair, and down his face and torso. Ian didn’t bother to sit up, knowing it would be a short call and he might be able to get another hour or two of sleep. 

“Hi, Yevy. Whatcha eating? Holy smokes, what happened to you?” Ian asked. Yevgeny kicked his legs and screamed excitedly, giggly with joy at the sight of Ian.

“His dumbass father thought it was a good idea to let him feed himself today,” Svetlana said, walking behind Yevgeny and bending down into view to see Ian. “Who’s that, Yevgeny? Huh, who’s that Orange Boy?” Yevgeny kicked and giggled some more. “Ian, tell Mikhailo Yevgeny is too young for peaches. He’s going to shit all over his clothes, just watch.”

“You’re never too young for peaches,” Mickey argued, trying to get Yevgeny to take another spoonful. He turned the screen back onto himself. “Gonna give the little rug rat a bath in a few minutes, so I’ll let you get back to sleep. Just wanted to check – we still on for next weekend?” 

“Next weekend?” Ian asked, still trying to wake up and remember what was happening the next weekend. It clicked when Mickey gave him a ‘you’re fucking joking, right’ face. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, we’re still good. I need to call Lip and let him know I’m coming too. I didn’t get to see him last time I was home.”

“Why? You’re not staying there, are you?” Mickey asked disappointingly.

Ian could see Svetlana walking around in the background, and wasn’t sure if they should have that conversation in private, but Mickey was waiting on an answer. Ian and Svetlana had become some sort of friends since they’d first met. Mickey would often hand her the phone to talk to Ian when it was his turn to change a pooped diaper or if he jumped in the shower after work. She had become less the crazy Russian bitch and more Yevy’s crazy Russian mom. Ian appreciated all the crazy that Svetlana came with because it was almost always in good humor and with good intentions, even if she did scare the shit out of him occasionally when she started yelling at Mickey in her native tongue.

“Uhm… well, I didn’t think I could stay at your place.” He said quietly.

“Svet, Ian’s staying here next weekend,” Mickey stated.

“Great. You keep the fucking noises down so you don’t wake Yevgeny though. Nika and I want to see a movie next week. You two can babysit.”

“Fuck that, I’m still working.” Mickey reminded her, completely ignoring her comment about the noises he makes. 

Svetlana came to the phone and leaned in to look at Ian. “Then you will babysit.” She said. “You know how to change diapers?”

Ian nodded, “Yeah, I got siblings. I know a thing or two.”

“Good. We’ll only be gone a couple of hours. Remember, you fuck up, and I’ll cut your balls off.” She gave Ian a sweet smile then walked away, leaving Mickey rolling his eyes as she left. He caught the grin on Ian’s face at her last comment.

“Don’t laugh. She’ll fucking do it.” He warned.


	38. Chapter 38

MANDY: I knew things with me and Lip were shit since before the holidays, but I guess it was either boredom or laziness that kept me with him. It wasn’t until spring when the weather had finally started to warm up a bit that I got restless. I didn’t feel like sitting around his tiny apartment or the Gallagher house getting high anymore, and that seemed to be all Lip wanted to do. I think I kept waiting on him to break up with me so I could pretend I’d given my all, but by the end of April, I just didn’t want to wait anymore. I really just needed a nudge, and who better to nudge me than Ian – He’d never really liked the idea of me and Lip together, so I knew I could count on him to walk me through a break-up and keep me from making a dumb ass decision and going back. 

The problem was getting Ian on the phone for more than five minutes at a time. I called to see if I could go visit him for a few days, but he mumbled something about having a weekend training hike he had to do. I couldn’t decide if he was telling me the truth or blowing me off, but the way he kept adding bits of unnecessary details started to sound fishy. 

“I’ll call you though, k?”

“You can call from your hikes?” yep, definitely fishy.

“Uh, well, I mean if I get a break. I might be able to call. Listen, Mands, I gotta run. I’ll call you this weekend, ok?”

Great… It felt like I was slowly losing both my boyfriend and my best friend. The Gallaghers suck!..................................

***

It had been a near-perfect day, with Ian in the house. They hadn’t gotten to sleep until close to 6 a.m., but Ian was awake again by noon and had jumped right into the driver’s seat with Yevgeny while Svet and Mickey watched. He spent the day playing, feeding, changing, and rocking Yevgeny to sleep every chance he got. When Mickey tried to help, Ian looked at him with pleading eyes, “I never get to see him, Mick. Let me,” and so Mickey did, watching Ian and his son interact as if they had bonded long ago. It put Svet’s mind at ease as well, watching Ian with Yevgeny. She hadn’t even threatened his balls one last time before leaving for the movies, which Ian counted as a victory.

Mickey laid his son in his crib and rushed back to his own room, ready to go one last round with Ian before he had to get to work. Ian was already naked, lying with one leg bent up and his arms stretched behind his head as he watched Mickey quickly pull his jeans and shirt away. Mickey practically made a dive for him on the bed, laughing as the bed creaked dangerously below them. 

“Don’t break the bed, Mickey.”

“Fuck that… break the bed. Give it your best shot, Gallagher.” He was on Ian in a flash, straddling and kissing him, relishing in finally being able to touch him as groped handfuls of skin. 

Ian rolled them over and pulled Mickey's legs up high, not wanting to waste any time, “Where’s the thing? I wanna use it on you.”

“Why do you keep calling it a ‘thing?’ It’s a fucking rubber dick – you should know, you bought it. It’s in the drawer, but you’re not using it asshole. I wanna feel you, not some fucking rubber dick.” Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian tight, keeping him from escaping to the drawer. Ian wiggled, trying to get loose, holding Mickey’s arms above him, but Mickey’s legs were vice-tight around him.

They were busy laughing and wrestling when they both heard it. The front door opened. Mickey sat up so fast he hit his head against Ian’s hard. Ian saw stars for a minute but before he could protest, Mickey had pushed him hard off the side of the bed onto the floor. 

“Ooof! Fuck.” Ian groaned painfully as he peeked his head over the top of the bed from the floor below.

“Shut the fuck up!” Mickey warned jumping and grabbing the first pair of sweats he found on the floor.

“Svet… You home?” Mandy called. The lights were on and Mickey’s car was parked out front, but there was no sign of Svet. “Mickey, is that you?”

“Shit!” Mickey turned on Ian and pointed. “Don’t fucking move!” He could hear Mandy kicking her shoes off at the front door and setting her keys on the table. Any minute she’d turn into the living room and see his bedroom door wide open. He pulled the sweats up, the material twice as long as he remembered them being. He looked down as he pulled the long legs over his feet and not even noticing that they had the letters A R M Y printed in bold black print right down one side. 

“Mick… Hello, anyone here?” Mickey grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and held it in front of him as casually as possible, trying to cover his dick which was still standing at attention when she caught sight of him. “Oh hey. Where’s Svet and Nika?”

“Out. What are you doing here?” His voice was harsh and paranoid. He was sweaty and blushing, looking like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, making Mandy immediately suspicious.

“Rude. I came to see Yevy. What are you doing here?” She tried to peek around him into the room to see why he was acting so funny, but he came out and closed the door behind him. “I thought you had work tonight?”

“I do. Svet went out for a bit.” He walked to the kitchen to avoid looking at her and she followed. “Want a beer, soda?”

Since when the fuck did Mickey offer her a drink? “No, why are you acting like this?” 

He opened the fridge and grabbed a bottled water, tucking it against the crotch of his sweats hoping the cold would help his dick situation. Why the fuck it was still standing straight up with his sister there was a fucking frustrating mystery to him, but it was just his luck. The cold water did nothing through the thick material. He ignored her question and headed toward the bathroom, keeping Mandy behind him as much as possible.

Ian stayed laying on the floor, listening to them talking in the other room. He peeked his head over the bed and when their voices faded off toward the kitchen, he jumped from the floor and started getting dressed. His t-shirt was still there, but his boxers and sweats were gone. He spun in a circle, trying to figure out where he’d tossed them when he heard Mandy coming in his direction again. 

“Do you have someone here?” She asked suspiciously, her voice right outside the bedroom door. 

Ian was standing right there wearing nothing but a t-shirt, with his semi-hard dick still in the game! He couldn’t dive for the other side of the bed without making too much noise, so he turned and jumped into the closet, pulling the door closed as much as possible just in time for her to open the bedroom door! He tucked his head back from the beam of light on his face and prayed to God she didn’t look in his direction. 

“Get the fuck out of my room, bitch!” Mickey said as he ran in behind her. 

She stood at the door, looking around suspiciously, but everything seemed to be in its normal disarray, with no sign of naked women anywhere. Mickey stood next to her, also looking around curiously, wondering where the fuck Ian had gone to. His heart dropped a little when he saw Ian’s Army duffel sitting in a corner of the room, with his last name clearly stamped in black letters along the front. He grabbed Mandy’s arm and yanked her away before she had a chance to see it. As he closed the door he looked back once more, this time catching Ian peering back at him wide-eyed from the closet.

“Jesus, Mickey, you’re gonna fucking bruise my arm, let go,” Mandy complained. “When is Svet coming back?”

“Don’t know. She went out for a while. Movies or some shit.” He looked at her impatiently.

“Wait. She went to the movies with a 5-month-old?” 

Shit. Mickey hadn’t thought of that. “Yes…” As if on cue, Yevgeny woke from all the ruckus Mandy and Mickey were making and began to cry. “I mean, no…”

Mandy looked at him like he’d lost his mind, then went to get her crying nephew. “Are you fucking high or something, Mickey?” She was back a minute later, bouncing Yevgeny in her arms as she calmed him. “Who’s watching him while you go to work?”

He didn’t know what to say. He stood there looking completely dumbfounded and speechless until Mandy snapped her fingers in front of him. “Mickey! Mickey, what the fuck is going on? Why are you acting like such a fucking idiot right now?”

Mickey snapped to and looked her dead in the eye. “I thought that was why you were here? I told Svet to call you, did she forget? Dumb bitch, she had one fucking job. Well, thank god you’re here… you’re staying right?” Without waiting for a response, he went back to his room, hoping Mandy didn't catch that only a few minutes earlier he had asked her why she was there. “I gotta get ready to go. Want me to order you some food or something?”

Mandy, having no other plans for the evening, took a seat with the baby. “Yeah, I guess I can stay, asshole, but you owe me one.”

Mickey slipped into his room and locked the door behind him, then rushed to the closet. Ian pushed himself up from the floor, hitting his head on the shelf above him and wincing as a couple of shoe boxes fell on top of him. Mickey looked at him, his mouth hanging open as he tried to figure out what to do. 

“You took my pants,” Ian said, pointing at the Army sweats, his boxers hanging out the bottom of one leg. 

Mickey looked down, realizing what he was wearing for the first time. He nodded absently then said, “Looks like Mandy’s babysitting.”

Ian spent the first twenty minutes sitting on the floor on the far side of Mickey’s bed hiding after Mickey had gone to work. The bedroom door was closed, but he was paranoid Mandy might come walking in at any minute. Mickey had sent Svet a text to let her know the situation, and they both had to trust that Svet would help keep their cover once she got home, but until then Ian was secluded to the bedroom while Mandy and Yevgeny sat right outside the door watching chick flicks. 

Mickey sent Ian a few texts in the beginning, just as paranoid about being found out as Ian was until work got too busy. He was just going to have to trust that Ian would stay quietly tucked away until Mandy left. It actually bothered him more than it was bothering Ian, and Mickey nearly called him at one point to tell him to just go out and tell her what was what, but he chickened out. All in good time, he told himself. All in good time. 

When Ian’s butt started to get sore from the hardwood floor he was sitting on, he decided he might be safe to get up from the floor. He moved to the door slowly, careful on the squeaky floorboards, he was going to lock the door but realized it was a push-button lock. If he pressed it, Mandy would be sure to hear it, so he opted against it. He tiptoed his way to his duffel and quietly searched for a pair of earphones, then sat on the edge of the bed, wincing as the mattress squeaked loudly underneath him. Mandy was still talking to Yevgeny and didn’t seem to notice. He plugged the earphones in, not a second too soon because his phone began to ring into the earbuds the second he had them in.

It was Mandy! He looked at the door, wondering if she actually knew he was there and his heart raced. He moved as quickly as he could to the other side of the bed, grabbing a pillow as he lay back down on the floor in his hiding spot again. To answer or not to answer, that was the question. If she was on to him, it would look even worse if he didn’t answer and she came walking in. Ian tucked his face toward the underside of the bed and answered with a muffled voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you answered? Wasn’t sure if you’d have cell service this weekend. How’s the hike going?”

Damn it, Ian thought to himself… the hike! He’d completely forgotten he told Mandy he’d be hiking, and now realized he could have just ignored her call and claimed no cell service later. 

“It’s good. Tired.” He said quietly, trying to keep his voice low enough that she wouldn’t hear him from the other room.

“Great, guess who I have with me?” A second later his phone lit up with a request to open a video call. The room was completely dark, so he didn’t see the harm in answering it. His phone lit up with Yevgeny laying on the floor underneath the play gym Ian had bought for him, reaching and tugging at the toys hanging above his head. “I’m babysitting Yevy. Yevy, wanna say high to Uncle Ian? Where are you… I can barely see you?”

“It’s… Uhm… everyone is sleeping here.” He said quietly.

“Already? It’s only 9 o’clock?” She got up from the floor and walked into Svet’s room with her phone. 

“Yeah, you know, early day, long hike. Everyone’s passed out. Another early day tomorrow.” He added, hoping to cut the call short, but it didn’t seem to have the effect he wanted.  
“So, guess what?” She said, oblivious to his early day comment. She looked directly at the screen and gave him a sad pouty face, “I think I’m gonna break up with your brother.”

Normally that comment would have had Ian’s full attention, but she didn’t get the response she had expected from him at all. He seemed passive, while what she really wanted was a ‘Good for you, Mands!”

“Ian, did you hear me?” She had a diaper in hand and was searching through the baby’s things in Svet’s room while she waited for some kind of reaction.

“Mmhmm. That’s good, Mandy. What are you doing?” He asked as she left Svet’s room.

“Looking for baby wipes and that ointment Svet likes to use. Mickey didn’t tell me where shit was before he left.” She headed straight for Mickey’s room, flicking the light switch on as she entered. 

Ian pulled his feet up close to his body as she looked around the room just ten feet away for baby wipes. The diaper bag she needed was on the kitchen table where Ian had left it earlier, but with her standing there, he couldn’t exactly say it.

“So, ‘that’s good, Mandy…’ That’s all you have to say to me about Lip?” She sat on the other side of the bed and looked around the room. “Where the fuck do they keep the wipes?” She asked. She looked at the dresser again, then it clicked. She’d seen a diaper bag in the kitchen when she’d first arrived. She left the room, leaving the light on and the door wide open. After a few long seconds, she realized he hadn't replied.

“Ian? Can you hear me?” She looked at him weirdly. The room behind him was now lit up on the screen, with a close up of only his face showing, but he wasn’t saying a word. He was just staring at the screen like he was in shock. “You have a bad connection or something? Want me to call you back?” 

Ian shook his head, talking even more quietly than before. “I really need to go. I’m waking everyone up. I'll text you later, ok?” 

Before she could protest, he ended the call and disappeared. He watched from under the bed as Mandy went back to the living room and took a seat beside Yevgeny with the diaper bag. With the light on in the room and the door wide open, if Mandy looked in his direction from where she was sitting, he was fucked. And if she saw some strange man staring back at her from under the bed, he was more than fucked, he was dead. Thankfully her back was to him at the moment. 

He moved in super slow motion, rolling away from the bed and trying to think of a way to escape before he was caught. The only thing he could do was wait for her to go to the bathroom or the kitchen, then make a run for it – but where? He couldn’t leave the house without her noticing; besides, his jacket and shoes were by the front door with everyone else’s so there was no way to go without being caught. The closet! That was Ian’s best bet, now he just had to wait for Mandy to go pee or into the kitchen. For the time being, he was ok, as long as she didn’t come back into the room and see him crouched there behind the bed.

He was fine the first few minutes, but he could feel his legs slowly starting to get numb beneath him. He tried to move a little to get the blood flowing into them, but there was no space to move. He turned sideways hoping to gain a few inches of space, and turned face to face with a black spider on the wall the size of a silver dollar! Ian shuffled backward fast, holding in a scream as the spider moved in the same direction with a hop! Ian’s heart was racing as it inched closer, all eight legs standing up straight as they watched each other. Ian breathed in great huffs, moaning as quietly as he could, ready to give himself away at any second if that spider came at him again. Its legs twitched and Ian prayed, “please god, please god, please god!”

As if in answer to his prayer, he saw Mandy jump from the spot she’d been sitting and head to the kitchen, never looking in his direction where she would have seen him clearly crouched against the wall ready to scream. As soon as she was out of sight, Ian jumped from the floor and ran away from the spider, who also took that exact moment to jump towards the spot Ian had been sitting. Ian squirmed around in the middle of the room, waving his arms wildly at imaginary spiders he felt on his skin. Yevgeny began squealing with joy at the sight of him, kicking his legs and laughing.

“What’s so funny, little man?” Mandy asked as she came back toward the bedroom door. Ian dove, finding himself once again in the closet – how poetic. She got to Mickey’s room and looked in to see what Yevgeny found so entertaining… nothing. Then switched the light off, leaving the door open still. 

Ian spent the rest of the night in the closet, ignoring all texts she sent as he stayed on high alert watching for spiders. More than once he felt a loose thread or the cuff of a shirt brush his neck and nearly jumped out of his skin, but he managed to keep from screaming and giving himself away until at last the front door opened and Svetlana and Nika came walking in. Ian breathed a sigh of relief and shot a text off to Mickey letting him know Svet was home, and he hadn’t blown his cover yet.

“Thank fuck” Mickey texted back. 

“How long has Yevgeny been asleep?” Svetlana asked. 

She stood at Mickey’s door looking in for signs of Ian. Her eyes fell on the closet where she caught his eye and let out a silent chuckle then closed the door. He waited a minute longer before quietly pushing the closet door open. His lower limbs were dead, having been crouched in the closet for more than two hours with very little movement. He went to stand and couldn’t, so he just rolled sideways onto the floor and stretched out slowly, groaning as the blood rushed in and the needles started up. Mandy and Svet talked for another hour before Mandy finally left. Ian stayed put on Mickey’s bed, trusting that Svet would keep guard on the door. When Mandy had been gone a full minute, the bedroom door opened up and Svet and Nika were standing there smiling at him.

“I thought Mikhailo was the one in the closet, but now I see it was you all along.” 

Ian flipped her off, making her laugh, then said, “Thanks, Svet.” After another second he got up and rushed past her, “I need to piss!”


	39. Chapter 39

MANDY: I chickened out. Maybe it was the phone call to Ian that did it, but he didn’t immediately support the idea of me and Lip breaking up so I thought maybe he was right – maybe I should give Lip another chance, so I chickened out and didn’t break up with him. I started spending less time waiting for Lip to figure out what we would do for the day, and I just left without him if he was set on sitting around drunk or high every day. It must have made him appreciate my absence because he started coming out more and more as the weather warmed up. 

I think it helped that Ian was coming home more often as well, spending a little time with his brothers at the house when he could. He only had a few more months before he got his new orders, so he took advantage of seeing his family and me as much as possible along with his boyfriend. I begged to meet the mystery man, but Ian only shook his head and said, “Someday, Mandy. I promise. The time just isn’t right.” When I tried to find out why, the only thing he would give me was, “You know how things are here, Mandy. South side isn’t really the place for that, and he’s not really the type of guy who wants people knowing it either.” I had to give Ian credit for keeping this guy’s secret, even from me………………

***

Mickey was grilling burgers on the back porch when Ian got back to the house. He couldn’t help but smile when he looked through the back screen door and saw Ian holding Yevgeny, kissing him all over his cheeks as his son pulled at Ian’s short red locks. Ian came outside, gave Mickey a quick peck, then went to the small grassy area with Yevgeny to sit. Even with his back to Ian, Mickey could feel his eyes on him the entire time. At last, he turned, and as suspected caught Ian looking at him.

“The fuck you looking at?” He said lightheartedly. Ian grinned but didn’t answer. Something in his silence worried Mickey. “Something on your mind, Gallagher? Speak up. Let’s hear it.”

“I’m leaving, Mickey… to Afghanistan.”

Mickey felt his stomach fall. “When? You’ve barely been there a year Ian; they can’t send you to a fucking war zone.”

Ian nodded. “They kinda can. If it wasn’t for the training I was doing, I probably would have been gone sooner. Most of the guys I went to boot camp with have already deployed.”

Mickey went back to the burgers, adding cheese and moving them around the grill to busy himself. He wasn’t sure what to say. What could he say – Ian being in the Army had always meant the day would come when he’d have to deploy, and Mickey had always thought he’d be ready for that day… if it was five fucking years in the future!

“Can you get out of it? Get re-stationed or some shit?” He asked, trying to sound calm. He moved the burgers to a platter and turned off the grill. 

“No, it doesn’t really work like that, Mickey.” He said.

Svetlana came out. She could tell by the look on Mickey’s face that Ian had finally told him. She had known for a few weeks, and like Ian, had worried about how Mickey might take it. She took Yevgeny and the platter of burgers back in the house and left the men to talk. Mickey scoured the hot grill with a wire brush, taking his time to clean it and avoiding looking at Ian. There was a lump of fear deep inside him making its way to the surface, so he didn’t dare say anything for a few seconds. He cleared his throat then turned to Ian and nodded. Ian took his hand and waited to see if Mickey wanted to talk about it more or if they had said enough for now.

“How soon?” Mickey asked.

“End of August, I think. We don’t have an exact date yet, but I should know more in the next couple of weeks. I’ll get about 10 days Leave before I go, so I can spend some time here with you and Yevy, if that’s ok.”

Mickey pulled him into a hug, tucking himself into Ian with a fierce grip. “You come home to me; you understand? You fucking come home.”  
Ian was up early Sunday morning to have coffee at the Gallagher house. That was his favorite time of the week in his family house – usually, it was just him and Lip up at the crack of dawn, sitting on the porch with a cup of coffee. Sometimes they talked, and sometimes the silence between them was enough. Ian had told Lip over the first cup that he was being deployed, and after that, they chose the silence. They sat side by side, Lip scooting a little closer to his little brother and wrapping an arm around his shoulder. It was always the right thing to say. After several minutes, Lip asked Ian a question that completely surprised him.

“How’d Mickey take it?” They looked at each other, Lip grinning just a bit. “What? Do you think I didn’t know? Shit, I’ve known about it since you came home for Christmas. Just thought maybe you’d say something eventually – or Mandy – but then I started to realize she didn’t know either.”

“You didn’t tell her, did you?” Ian worried.

“Fuck no. Your secret’s safe with me.” The concern was back in his voice. “You sure you know what you’re doing? I mean, if you can’t even tell your best friend… his sister… maybe that’s a sign, you know? Maybe he’s not the best person to be getting into a relationship with.” 

Ian looked away, not wanting to argue with his brother. He knew Mickey and Lip had a volatile relationship at times, and he wasn’t sure what he could say to make Lip understand it wasn’t like that. 

“Unless you two are just fucking?”

“Nope. Not just fucking.” Ian said at last. 

“Ian, he’s married,” Lip warned. “I know Svet has her thing going on, Mandy told me all about that, but do you really want to get caught up in all that bullshit? You remember how this tore you apart when Mickey got married to her? What are you gonna do when he decides he’s not really gay? How are you gonna handle that?”

“It’s not like that, Lip. It’s just…” he didn’t know. He stood up and walked to the gate, then turned to face his brother. He didn’t have the answers Lip was looking for. All he knew for sure was that he loved Mickey, and Mickey loved him, and until they figured out what came next Ian had decided it was enough. “It’s not gonna be like this forever. And I’ll deal with whatever I need to when the time comes.”

“What if Mickey isn’t up to the challenge of you being overseas while he’s here? You gonna be able to keep your head in the game out there while he’s here fucking around on you – he will be, you know? And how are you gonna handle it when he disappears altogether, leaving you out there with your hand in your dick? It won’t be any skin off his back – what’s he got to lose? Nothing as far as I can see.” Lip always had a way of showing his concern and saying the wrong fucking thing at the same time. 

“Just stop, Lip! I get it – you don’t fucking like him –“ 

“He’s a piece of shit, Ian. He’s a fucking Milkovich, for Christ’s sake. You can do better. I’m just trying to look out for you.” Lip retorted.

“Fuck you. You don’t like him because of the shit he’s done, but you don’t even know him, Lip. You have no idea how hard he’s been working to put his life together. You don’t know the kind of father he is. And you don’t know shit about the Milkovich’s because if you did, you’d know how fucking lucky I am to have him. Maybe you should tell Mandy how you feel if you have a problem with them.” 

Ian walked out of the gate, leaving Lip alone on the porch. How had they gone from a warm brotherly moment to fighting over whether or not the Milkovich’s were good enough for a Gallagher? Fuck Lip! He didn’t deserve Mandy. Ian pulled his phone from his pocket and didn’t hesitate as he sent off a text: I think you should break up with Lip. 


	40. Chapter 40

By mid-July, Ian had his orders. He was deployed to the front line with his platoon for 10 months. When he told Mickey, he kept everything as factual and simple as possible – ten months, Helmand Province, working weapons support alongside the marines. Ian assured him if there was any place to be in the middle of the action, it was side by side with the marines. Before either of them was ready for it, Ian was packing up his few belongings at the barracks and heading home for his 10-day Leave. He flew home, not wanting to waste a single minute on a bus ride, and as with every other trip over the past months, this one was to be split between his family, and time with Mickey in his off-hours. 

Much to Ian’s dismay, Mandy was still with Lip, but he could tell each time he saw her that her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Explain to me again why you two are still together?” He asked when she picked him up from the airport.

“I don’t fucking know. Because I hate being alone, how’s that for an answer?” Apparently not good enough, by the look he was giving her. Finally, she said the thing that really mattered, “What if he’s the best I can do, Ian? I mean, I know he’s an asshole, and I’m pretty sure he’s cheated on me, but fuck, that sounds pretty typical, don’t you think? At least he doesn’t hit me, right?”

“No, Mandy, not all guys are assholes, and not all guys hit women. You haven’t been happy with him for years, Mands, and I think you’re only with him because it’s been years… and you don’t know how to get out of it.”

She kept her eyes on the road and considered what he’d said, “You’re probably right. But what else is out there, Ian? People like Iggy or Mickey? Why the fuck would I want that? My brothers are the perfect example of everything I don’t want, you know? Iggy’s not so bad, but he’s a fucking moron. And then Mickey – shit, even sober he’s an asshole, and I’m pretty damn sure he cheats on his wife.”

“Wait – I thought Svetlana and Mickey weren’t ‘married’ married. She has a girlfriend too, right?” He argued, defending his boyfriend’s lifestyle.

“Right. Ok, I guess that’s different, but it’s still really fucked up. That’s not fidelity, that’s for damn sure.” They drove in silence for a few minutes before she finally said, “You’re right. I need to break up with him.”

“You’d better do it while I’m still here because if you want to talk and get drunk afterward, you only have 10 days to make that happen.”  
They arrived at Mickey’s house thirty minutes later.

“Why are we here?” Ian asked. It was only early afternoon and he knew Mickey was at work, but he wasn’t expecting to make a pit stop at his boyfriend’s house with Mandy.

“I told Svet I’d stop by. She needs to borrow the car for a bit, while I watch Yevy. Is that ok? I can have her drop you at home if you want?”

“No… no. This is ok.” He started to grab his bag from the back seat when Mandy stopped him, “You can just put that in the trunk. It’ll be safe.”

“Oh, yeah.” He was happy Mandy had caught him before he walked his things straight into Mickey’s room.

They walked into the house, Mandy pointing out that Svet wanted shoes off in the house and noticing Ian had already started removing his. He rounded the corner into the living room where Yevgeny spied him and screamed excitedly before crawling directly to him. Mandy looked at Ian impressed. 

“Looks like you have a fan!” She said.

Yevgeny pulled himself up on Ian’s pant leg, and Ian immediately grabbed him and walked off giving him hugs and kisses and talking in whispered tones, telling him how much he’d missed him. Svet said her hellos, her tone neutral as she tried to figure out what was happening. Ian didn’t seem to be giving up any secret information, so she played along and did the same, treating Ian as if they were distant acquaintances rather than the very close, friendly co-parents they had become. Yevgeny held on to Ian, laying his head on his shoulder as Ian cuddled him and sang a song to him that he’d been singing for a few weeks.

“I can’t believe how much that kid likes you,” Mandy marveled. “I can barely get him to come to me. Must be your red hair he likes so much.” 

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Svet said, kissing her son goodbye, and secretly winking at Ian as she got ready to leave. “Mikhailo will be home in an hour, so if you need a ride somewhere, he can take you, and take Yevgeny too.” She rattled off instructions for Yevgeny looking directly at Ian as she always did when he stayed with the baby. 

“It’ll be fine, Svet. Not the first time I’ve watched him.” Mandy said, wondering why Svetlana was looking at Ian as if he was the one who was watching the baby.

Just for good measure and a bit of fun, Svetlana looked Ian dead in the eye and said coldly, “Anything happens to my son, and I’ll cut your balls off, got it?”

Mandy rolled her eyes, but Ian played along, nodding nervously, “Got it.” All the while Yevgeny was busy leaving sloppy kisses on Ian’s cheek and jabbering in their own secret little language.

As much as Mandy tried, she couldn’t take the reins on the babysitting gig. If Yevgeny needed a diaper changed, he wiggled away from her until Ian stepped in with his magic touch and got him settled down long enough to get him changed. When it was time for his lunch, Yevgeny sat in his high chair and cried, reaching out for Ian across the room. Ian did his best to let Mandy be in control, but it broke his heart to see his sweet baby crying for him, and soon he surrendered to that as well, offering to help.

“I don’t know why he’s so cranky today. He usually likes me. You’re giving Uncle Ian a bad impression, Yevy!” She joked. Ian took over lunch and Mandy praised him at being a natural with kids. “You’re gonna be a great dad someday, Ian.”

The front door opened and Mickey came walking in. 

“Hey, Mickey. Look who’s here? Ian.” Mandy announced. Mickey glanced indifferently in his direction, then addressed Mandy.

“Do me a favor. Svet texted me to ask if I’d pick up her girly shit at the store for her.” He pulled a twenty from his wallet and held it out. “Go get that shit so I don’t have to.”

“Why can’t you do it? I have a guest here.” She argued, not wanting to go pick up feminine products for his wife.

Mickey looked at Ian who now had a wry smile on his face as Mickey attempted to get rid of his sister for ten minutes, “The fuck you looking at, Gallagher?” Mickey barked, making Ian look away and nearly laugh out loud. Mickey turned back toward Mandy. “Just… go this one fucking time… please. Jesus Fuck, Mandy, if you don’t want to do it, how the fuck do you think it makes me feel? I’m letting you take my fucking car – that alone should tell you how much I don’t want to do this. Keep the fucking change for one of those rich bitch coffees you like so much.”

Mandy considered it for a minute – Mickey never let her drive his car. She loved his car. She grabbed the keys and gave in, never once considering why Svetlana couldn’t just stop at the store herself on the way home.

“You coming, Ian?”

“No, he’s not fucking coming! Do you see a fucking pussy on him? Go already. You could have been back by now.” Mickey barked.

Mandy rolled her eyes as she slipped her shoes on, then looked at Ian as Mickey disappeared into his room, “See… men are assholes.”

Mickey waited until he heard the engine rev on his car, then went straight to Ian, tucking his head back from the chair he was seated in and gave him a Spiderman kiss. 

“We really gotta tell her, Mickey,” Ian said when their kiss ended.

Mickey rolled his eyes then kissed Ian again to shut him up. He knew Ian was right. He just didn’t know how to do it.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=QCgeitX5xg0&feature=share

The first 5 days flew by. Ian was pulled in every direction by his family and friends who wanted to spend time with him before he deployed. Mickey worked and waited patiently for Ian to find his way back to him every night, often intoxicated and chatty. They would stay up late into the night, Ian slowly sobering into a quiet, emotional mood that only seemed to be soothed when he was skin to skin with Mickey. They ended each night, limbs intertwined, holding each other close. Time was slipping away faster than either of them were ready for, and things unspoken began to weigh heavily on both of them.

Svetlana was changing Yevgeny’s soiled shirt after lunch when Ian walked into her room. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, still groggy from an afternoon nap.

“You seen Mickey?” 

Yevgeny screamed excitedly from the bed when he saw Ian. She struggled to keep Yevgeny still, “He went for diapers.” She lifted Yevgeny from the bed, finally dressed again, and spun him around to Ian, “Here… Go with your papa, you want him so bad.”

Papa?! Ian looked at her, unsure of what to say. Svetlana rolled her eyes and smiled, “It will be strange if he goes his entire life calling you Orange Boy or Asshole.”

As she left, she caught Ian whispering to Yevgeny, “Papa… I like that. You like that?”

Mickey came walking in a few seconds later, bitching about the heat in the house being as bad as it was outside. He and Svet argued about it for a minute while Ian looked on smiling, and Nika rolled her eyes at the disruption from the book she was trying to read. Nika got up and tossed her book on the couch, then spoke up loudly to shut them both up.

“Enough! Shut the fuck up already! If you two would just get on with killing each other, me and Orange Boy can get a little god damned peace around here.” She walked to the bedroom.

“Did that bitch just tell me to shut up in my own fucking house?” Mickey asked Svetlana, “She sits on her ass all fucking day, while I pay her fucking bills and –“ 

Nika was back, headed straight for Mickey. She threw an envelope at him before he could finish complaining. “There. You and your boyfriend go. They have air conditioning there so you can be fucking happy.”

“What the fuck is this?” Mickey said, looking between Nika and Svetlana who were both smiling at him.

“Nika doesn’t sit around all day. She has a job, asshole. She’s been saving money so you can Ora… Ian can go away for the weekend. You’ll have to call in sick to work.”

“Did you know about this?” Mickey asked Ian. Ian shook his head. “When?”

“Tomorrow.” Svetlana replied, “Don’t worry. We can afford for you to have a day off now and then.” She only waited a few seconds, not wanting him to be left on the spot for too long. “Aren’t you going to say thank you?”

He looked at Nika briefly, then flipped her off and smiled. It was enough. It was exactly what Nika expected. 

“You’re welcome. Now maybe I can read my book in peace.” She said.

Ian hated to spoil the moment, but it was time for him to leave. He started to hand Yevgeny over to his mother but the baby wasn’t having it. He grabbed Ian and started crying. 

“Papa will be back. Come.” Svetlana said, soothing her son. She caught a glance of Mickey and waited for him to protest her ‘papa’ comment, but he didn’t. He only grinned at her, giving her the slightest nod of approval.

Ian was slipping his shoes on, taking peeks up at Mickey who was trying to busy himself with anything other than looking at Ian. The Gallaghers were having a Bon Voyage BBQ for Ian. Ian had tried to reason that they all knew who Mickey was, and Mandy would be there, and he was welcome to bring his wife… and her ‘wife’ if he wanted to, and Mickey didn’t even have to stay long if he didn’t want to, no pressure. 

“You sure you don’t want to come? They went all out – picked up some steaks for the grill. Kev is bringing the booze.” He didn’t expect Mickey to say yes, but he wanted to make sure Mickey knew he was welcome. When he got no response, he kissed the baby goodbye and headed for the door. “If you change your mind, I’ll be there.”

The door closed and Mickey’s shoulders visibly slouched in his absence. 

“You’re a dumb ass, you know that?” Svetlana said. He didn’t even argue.

\-------------

  
Gallagher's parties were epic. There was music and dancing and alcohol and fun and friends and family… so much family! Ian couldn’t go anywhere without someone grabbing him for an emotional chat about how they were going to miss him while he was gone. He nodded and smiled, wondering why none of them had gone out of their way to pay him this much attention before the news of his deployment, but none of that mattered. It was the Gallagher way to rally, and he was grateful they were rallying for him now. 

The sun was gone now, bringing some relief from the heat of the day. He sat on the bottom steps of the back porch watching his siblings splash around in the aluminum pool they had set up, and waving off Lip and Kev as they tried to challenge him to a drinking game of corn hole they had invented. He loved his family, there was no doubt, but he couldn’t help feeling as if a big part of his family was missing without Mickey, Svetlana, Nika, and Yevgeny there.

“Ian, come on! Just one round!” Lip called out to him, holding up a bottle of Hennessy.

Ian gave in and started toward the game. He was stopped by the familiar sound of a car engine growling up the alley in their direction. 

Mickey’s car pulled into the empty lot. No one else seemed to take notice, with people coming and going all evening, but Ian stood stock still as he watched his boyfriend step from his vehicle. 

Mickey looked around, the crowded back yard, nudged nervously at his nose as he was wont to do, then ran a hand through his hair. A second later the passenger door opened, and Svetlana stepped out as well, then the back door. Nika handed Yevgeny to Svetlana and they all stood there waiting for Mickey to decide if he was going to join the party or not. 

Lip and Kev waited for Ian to join them, then looked to see what had caught his interest.

“Is that … Mickey Milkovich?” Ian’s dad asked from the lawn chair he was drinking in.

“Yeah,” Lip said sourly.

“Shit!” Frank jumped from his lawn chair, grabbed three more beers from a nearby cooler and started sneaking off. “If he asks for me… just tell him I died or something, I don’t care!”

Ian’s face lit up at the sight of the rest of his family. Mickey found him in the crowd, cocked his head slightly and raised his eyebrows, surrendering at last to Ian’s request just to show up. It was only a few beers, and it would make Ian feel good, so why the hell not. Ian didn’t move to meet them as they walked around the back of the fence, not sure what front Mickey was coming in with. Ian’s sisters ran up and began fawning over the baby, passing him from arm to arm. Mickey made his way through the crowd in the yard, nodding a hello or offering a fist bump to people he recognized, his face stoic and straight as it ever was, keeping his badass reputation intact. He caught sight of Lip glaring at him from the side of the yard and scowled back, flipping him off immediately. 

Mickey turned his eyes on Ian. His Ian. 

“Hi Mic-“ 

Mickey shut him up, pulling him into a desperate kiss, holding his head close and tight, reaching his other arm around Ian’s waist and kissing him as if his life depended on it. Ian froze, but only for a second, before he reciprocated the kiss, holding Mickey tight. He could feel the fear in Mickey’s grip. He knew Mickey was still kissing him because he was too damn scared to stop now, so Ian held him there, holding Mickey until the shaking under his fingers started to subside.

The music was still playing loud, but that was about the only other sound in the yard. All the splashing from the pool and the laughing and talking had stopped, and dozens of eyes were on Ian and Mickey now, everyone standing with their mouths hanging open. Mickey felt them watching and his hands shook as he let Ian free of their kiss. His first instinct was to turn and attack, but before he had a chance, his wife and his son were standing beside him.

Svetlana was handing the baby to Ian, “Go with papa.” Yevgeny practically jumped into Ian’s arms, then reached for Mickey.

The chattering in the crowd slowly returned, and while most of it was probably about what they’d all just witnessed – South side’s badass Milkovich kissing another man – the atmosphere was still friendly. 

“Mickey!” Kevin walked up, slapping a friendly hand on his back. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” Kevin was a giant, towering over almost everyone there. He looked around the yard, daring anyone there to start talking shit about either Ian or Mickey, but from the looks of it, no one seemed to have any big issue with what they’d seen. “Come on over. We were just about to start a new game. You can be on Ian’s team… Well… I guess you already are.”

Lip snickered. Ian snickered. Mickey shook his head and rolled his eyes, then looked at Ian and smirked. “I knew I was gonna fucking regret this shit. Come on. Let’s get shitfaced and show them how it’s done.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=TkA7xQb6uPk&feature=share

Mandy walked out the back door as Svetlana was walking in.

“Svet, what are you doing here?” 

“Your brother wanted to come out.” She said jokingly, but Mandy didn’t get the joke. “Need to change baby. Go find your boyfriend. He has something to tell you.”

Mandy walked out the back door and caught sight of Lip playing corn hole, wondering what he had to tell her, and why Svet would know anything about it. Mickey was there too, laughing as Ian took a shot back in one swallow. Mickey reached over and rubbed Ian’s back in an overly congenial manner before turning back to the game. Mandy headed in their direction, still curious what Lip wanted, when Ian reached his own arm around Mickey’s waist and leaned in to kiss his head.

‘WHAT THE FUCK!” Mandy stopped a few yards short of them, her drink pouring out onto the grass as she stood in shock at what she’d just witnessed.

“Oh fuck,” Mickey said, not turning around to face his sister. Ian slowly turned to her and smiled innocently.

“Hi, Mands…”

“Don’t you fucking ‘hi, Mands’ me, asshole! What the fuck did you just… MICKEY! Turn your ass around and look at me.” 

Mickey took one large step, putting Ian in between him and his sister, then turned around to face her.

“You wanted to tell her, now you deal with her.” He said, pushing Ian forward. Ian fell forward one step, then retreated two. Kev and Lip sipped at their drinks, laughing, looking back and forth between the siblings, fully entertained. Mandy looked at Lip, the same angry expression on her face.

“Did you know about this?” She accused. He tried to stop laughing as he nodded but there was no point. Someone was about to get their ass kicked by Mandy, and Lip was there for it. Hell, he was even willing to get his ass kicked right then, he was just so damn happy for his brother, finally.

Mandy started to walk away, wiggling her finger at Ian and Mickey to follow, but neither did. She went back and grabbed Ian’s arm. “I’ll deal with your ass in a minute.” She threatened Mickey as she yanked Ian away.

Mickey stayed in his safe corner of the yard with Lip and Kevin, no longer playing the game, but it was better than mingling with the crowd who might start asking him questions. Ian and Mandy had disappeared to the front of the house, and while Mickey was almost curious enough to go looking for them, he still hadn’t worked up the courage to face his sister just yet. All the Milkovich badassery went right out the window when it came to facing Mandy in her wrath.

After twenty minutes, he started to wonder if maybe it was the right thing to do to go save Ian. Just then Mandy and Ian came walking around the side of the house, arm in arm, smiling and talking. She saw her brother and her smile faded. She let go of Ian’s arm and walked straight to Mickey, socking him in his arm several times, before grabbing him around his neck and hugging him tightly.

“Jesus Christ, bitch! You come out punching, then fucking…“ he gave in and wrapped his arms around her, “…you’re trying to choke me, aren’t you?” he asked as her hug tightened. 

She let go and slugged him once more. “Asshole! Fucking…” She slugged him again, then hugged him again. “I’m so happy for you, Mickey.”  
  
Ian and Mickey left early the next morning, driving 4 hours to the opposite side of the lake. Svetlana and Nika had reserved a small vacation rental home for 2 nights, complete with the lake, a hot tub, and dirt bikes, “In case you decide to get sunshine while you’re there.” 

The time went by faster than either could imagine and before they knew it, they were packing the car to head back to Chicago for Ian’s last night in town. He’d already said his goodbyes to his family, wanting to spend every possible minute he had left with Mickey and Yevgeny. 

Mandy came for dinner, then Svetlana and Nika practically had to pry her out the door to a movie so the two men could spend time with their son. Ian kept Yevgeny up well past his bedtime, then rocked him slowly to sleep and kissed him goodbye once more. Mickey was sitting on the edge of his bed wringing his hands together slowly when Ian came back. Ian stood at the door and took him in. In a million years, if someone had told him when he was 15 that he’d be sharing his life with Mickey Milkovich, he would never have believed them, and yet now he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

“He’s finally asleep.”

Mickey went to Ian, wrapping his arms around him and held on. He kissed Ian’s neck, keeping him close. Ian felt the shudder go through Mickey as he fought to hold his emotions in.

“I’m not ready.” Mickey’s voice shook, and Ian held him tighter another minute. When Mickey pulled away, he quickly wiped away the moisture in his eyes and cleared his throat as he turned off the light and closed his door.

Ian undressed and sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Mickey to join him. At last, Mickey came to him, straddling his legs around Ian’s and holding him again. They made love one last time, taking it slow, touching and tasting and memorizing every dip and curve of the other’s body. They held each other long after they had finished, falling asleep with Ian tucked safely in next to Mickey’s heart.


	43. Chapter 43

When Ian’s alarm went off at 4:30, Mickey was up with him, both quietly moving about the room. Mickey tucked Ian’s duffel bag filled with his personal belongings into the closet, and Ian grabbed the small backpack of items he was allowed to take with him overseas. They drove to the airport, and Mickey suddenly had a dozen questions he needed answers to – “Where do we send shit you might need?” (Mandy has the address) “What shit will you need?” (Mandy has a list of things they allow) “What if you need shit and you can’t tell us?” (I won’t need much) “Will you get time off for the holidays – they can’t fucking expect you to go out shooting fucking bad guys on the holidays!” (Not sure the Taliban believes in Santa, Mick) “What about that video chat shit we see on commercials, can you do all that? You’ll have your phone with you right?”

“Oh, I almost forgot.” Ian pulled his phone from his backpack. “I can’t take this. Can you put it back in my bag when you get home?”

“The fuck do you mean you can’t take it? How are we supposed to reach you?” 

“You can’t really. I might get lucky if there’s a satellite phone around, but I don’t think I’ll be able to make many calls.” Mickey nearly swerved into another car when he turned his head toward Ian with a ‘you must be shitting me’ glare. Ian reached for his hand. “I’ll be ok, I promise.”

Ian checked in at the counter with Mickey standing shoulder to shoulder with him. “Can my husband come to the gate with me? I’m deploying overseas.” 

Ian handed the lady his deployment orders, then she asked to see Mickey’s ID. A few minutes later she handed both IDs back with a boarding pass and a gate pass for Mickey. “On behalf of United Airlines, and myself, I would like to wish you a safe return. Thank you for your service, sir, and god bless. Please enjoy your flight.”

They went through security and made their way to a corner near the gate just as the flight attendant was calling for First Class passengers to board the plane. 

“Uhm, sorry about that… You know, the husband thing. One of the guys told me you can bring the family to the gate if you’re deploying but I wasn’t sure if I could bring you, so…”

Mickey kissed him, keeping Ian close when he spoke, “Seventeen.”

The last of the passengers were boarding the plane, but Mickey kept Ian there. 

“What’s that mean…” Ian remembered the list of numbers, and nodded, “Aah, yes. Seventeen.”

“That’s how old you were the first time the thought went through my head that I would fucking marry you in a heartbeat if I could. You and Mandy were in the kitchen and you made that damn pact, remember?” Ian nodded. “If you had walked in my room ten minutes sooner that night, maybe I would have said that to you, but you gave me time to chicken out and fuck things up between us. I had to leave that night because I was fucking scared to death that I nearly told you that.”

“You didn’t fuck up anything. We just took a little detour, and now look at us… we’ve got Yevy too.”

The flight attendant was announcing the last call for passengers boarding Flight 257 to Cincinnati. Ian knew he was out of time.

“I love you, Mickey.”

“I love you. You come home safe.” He held Ian’s face in his hands and kissed him, then said it again, “You come home to me and Yevy.”


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VqaBof47pmY

The itch under his skin and the constant humming in Mickey’s bones were back. It returned almost exactly the same time Ian shipped out, buzzing inside of him all day long, then keeping him up all night. After a week of tossing and turning at night, he was edgy and impatient at work each day, snapping at people more than usual. By the second week, he started relieving some of that anxiety by taking it out on drunk patrons and the club. It got to the point that the club manager pulled him aside and warned him not once but twice that he was there to break up the fights, not start them, and a 3rd warning would cost Mickey his job.

By week three, Mickey was back to bickering and picking fights with Svetlana, and his impatience was beginning to extend to Yevgeny as well. One day, after he’d worked three hours of overtime and fought traffic to get home to see his son before bedtime, Mickey’s patience had run out. He walked into the house and tossed his tool belt onto the floor, rather than hanging it on the hook by the door; Yevgeny, excited to see his daddy home, bounced happily as he held onto the coffee table, then opened his arms excitedly, knocking over a glass of soda onto Mickey’s tools and phone.

“God damn it, Yevgeny!” Without a second thought, Mickey swatted his son hard enough on his diaper to shock Yevgeny, then pushed him to the side, making him fall onto the floor. His son’s shock changed to fear and he began to cry.

In that same split second, Svetlana was up from her seat and push Mickey back hard as she screamed threats at him in Russian. Mickey knew the second his hand had hit his son that he had crossed a line, but it was too late … Svetlana would have blood if he made one wrong move.

“I didn’t hit him that hard! Fuck, I got my ass beat by the time I was his age! He’s fine!” He was ashamed at the words as he spoke them, but they just kept coming, “He’s fucking fine, Svet! Look! He’s just crying because you won’t shut the fuck up! Jesus Christ! Ok! Ok! I’m going! Don’t fucking push me, bitch!” She had backed him up to the door with nowhere else to go but out as she continued to scream at him, their son scared and crying behind them. Mickey had barely cleared the door when the wood slammed shut, grazing his head. 

“FUUUCK!” Their upstairs neighbor was sitting on the stoop looking at him, “What the fuck are you looking at?!” Mickey warned. The guy quickly retreated inside his own front door as Mickey muttered, “Asshole!” but he was pretty sure he was only talking about himself. He felt his pockets and realized he had left everything inside – keys, wallet, phone. He wiggled the locked doorknob and listened as Svetlana tried to soothe their scared son, then punched the door once and left.

He took off on foot, heading toward the park where he hoped to find something to take the edge off – a joint, a bump, a fucking idiot he could beat the shit out of – he wasn’t particular. His ‘don’t fuck with me’ scowl cleared a path for him as he went in looking for trouble, and within half a block, he’d found it.

Two punks he used to sell to were sitting on the back of a bench as he went by.

“Yo, Mickey! What’s up, man? Long-time no see!” Mickey barely had a second to turn his glare on one of them when he caught the smirks on their faces. “Hey is it true what we heard about you?”

That stopped Mickey in his tracks. He turned and walked toward them, his F U C K U – U P knuckles curling into tight fists and ready to fight.

“The fuck did you hear?” 

The second guy caught Mickey’s lethal tone and jumped off the back of the bench. He and Mickey’s knuckles had meant once before and that had been one time too many. He tried to coax his friend to leave, but his friend was too stupid to understand what was coming for him.

“You know – that Mickey Milkovich is a fucking fa –“ 

The rest of the sentence was lost as Mickey landed a solid blow across the guy’s jaw, dropping him off the back of the bench. Before he ever hit the dirt, Mickey had jumped over the bench and was on top of him, beating him bloody as his friend tried pulling Mickey off. Even with one guy riding his back, Mickey got in a few more punches before being pulled away. He immediately rolled into a new fight, landing another blow to the dummy who’d pulled him off the first guy. He didn’t hold anything back, fighting like his life depended on it, and in a way it did. He couldn’t have people in that neighborhood talking shit about him or Ian, and he sure as shit wasn’t going to let them walk again if they did. He continued to pound on each of them as they came for him until one gave up and ran away. Mickey grabbed the last man standing by both sides of his collar and head-butted him, then dropped him unconscious to the ground.

He stood there, fists still clenched, and looked around at the few people who were standing a safe distance watching him.

“You assholes got something to say to me?” he growled, but no one said a word. The began to disperse as he caught his breath. The guy on the ground started to moan, rolling on the ground and grabbing at broken ribs. Mickey grabbed a handful of his hair and readied his fist once more, “Who’s the little bitch now, huh, motherfucker?”

The sun was gone by the time he got home, and the front door still locked, but his adrenaline had burned off and now all he wanted to do was sleep. He knocked quietly on the door in case Yevgeny was sleeping.

“Svet… come on, just let me in. Open the fucking door, Svet.” He heard her unlock it, and he let himself in. Yevgeny caught sight of him and crawled away quickly and began to cry again.

“What the hell happened to you?” Svetlana asked, alarmed by all the blood on him.

Mickey shook his head at her, not bothering to answer her question, and walked by, ashamed at the way his son shied away from him. He went straight for the bathroom and showered, letting the dirt and blood wash away as he cursed himself for being such a fucking loser like his own dad had been. When the water began to run cold, he dried off then dressed in a pair of Ian’s long gray sweats and one of his plain green army t-shirts. He grabbed Ian’s phone from his nightstand then went back out to see his son.

Yevgeny still didn’t want to go near him, so Mickey took a seat on the floor on the opposite side of the room and began searching for a song Ian used to hum to Yevgeny. He hit play and waited. After a few bars, Yevgeny came crawling over cautiously. 

“Puh! Puh!” Yevgeny said excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s papa.” Mickey lifting Yevgeny as he came closer and sitting him on his lap. His son grabbed at the phone, putting it in his mouth as Mickey cuddled him closer.

“I’m sorry, Yevy.” He whispered, kissing his son’s head softly. He took the phone and opened Ian’s gallery and began showing Yevgeny pictures of Ian. Ian and Mickey, Ian and Yevgeny, Ian and Mandy, Ian and Svet – then hit the replay button when the song had ended.

Svetlana knew Mickey was hurting, but she wasn’t the person to make him feel better. “He needs to go to bed.” She said, a tinge of anger still in her tone, but softer than Mickey had expected. He nodded.

“He can sleep with me tonight.” He played with Yevgeny another twenty minutes until all the fear and stress from earlier was a distant memory to his son, then took him to his room. 

Long after Yevgeny was asleep beside him, Mickey laid in the dark, the buzz and hum keeping him awake, and he thought of Ian somewhere on the other side of the world and wondered if Ian was thinking of him or if his days were so filled now that Mickey was a distant memory.


	45. Chapter 45

The first week was not what Ian was expecting. They loaded up their gear onto cargo planes, then moved in like cattle and buckled down for a long flight, twenty men to a row. The next 5 days were filled with landings and loadings and unloadings at five different airports in 4 different countries. Often the men were left to sit for hours on end in the plane, getting up occasionally to stretch their legs in the aisles as they waited on the tarmac to get moving again. When they were allowed to deplane, they had to stay within sight of their gates at all times. They slept on hard airport floors with little more than a small personal effects bags for a pillow and ate from vending machines. In nine days, they landed in Georgia, New York, Ireland, and Germany, and never saw past the airport windows. By day ten they reached their first base stop in Kuwait and were allowed five days on base before heading out again to Camp Leatherneck in Afghanistan. In that short time, their bags were unloaded separately, so Ian’s letters got lost in the shuffle until he got his seabag back at a later date.

It was a long, exhausting two-week journey, and he hadn’t even started the tough part of deployment yet. He unpacked the few items he had with him and tried to find something to pass the time, but he had no books, no pens or papers, no laptop, no phone. It was too late to go to the PX, so he thought he’d try his luck with one of the guys, and he knew just the guy to ask… Pecker.

“Hey Pecker, you got a pen I can borrow?”

Ryan Pecker, a prep-school boy from upper New York state, was Ian’s age, but stood almost a full foot shorter than him and probably didn’t even break a hundred pounds soaking wet. He was well-spoken, had impeccable manners, and put more time into his presentation and pressing his BDUs than anyone should. Every soldier in their unit gave him shit for being too soft for the Army but Pecker didn’t let it get to him. He showed up each day and put out 100%, and dished out as much shit as the other guys tried to give him. Ian could respect that.

“You looking to write your girl, Gallagher?” he tossed Ian a pen.

“Yeah, something like that. Any chance you have a few extra sheets of paper? The PX is closed right now, so…”

“Boy, you’re a real piece of work.” Pecker laughed. “I think I have an extra notepad around here. You got envelopes, or you need those too?”

Ian hadn’t even considered the envelopes. How could he forget the envelopes? He winced and nodded. “Guess I wasn’t thinking, sorry.”

Pecker moved about his organized space collecting the items for Ian. His bunk was a complete contrast to Ian’s own which was just organized enough to keep him from getting shit if there was an inspection. Everything about the guy seemed out of place for the Army.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Ian had wanted to ask that question almost from the minute he’d met Pecker. “I mean, you seem like the kinda guy who would have picked college over this.”

“You know, spoiled little rich kid with shitty parents who didn’t let him have what he wanted, so I said ‘screw you’ and ran away. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Ian laughed, “Nah. I got the shitty parents down, but I’m broke as a joke. I’ve been wanting to join since I was a kid. Used to think I’d make a career of it.”

“What changed? Not a fan of the sandbox, Gallagher? You got a wife? Kids?”

“I got someone, and a kid. Sorta.”

“Sorta, huh? That’s good. I had someone. Now it’s just me. Probably better that way, so I can keep my head in the game, you know?” He handed Ian the writing supplies, “Here are some stamps too. Might as well take them. I don’t have anyone to write to.”

“Thanks for the stamps… and paper and shit.”

“Sure. What’s your girl’s name?” Pecker asked before Ian made his escape back to his bunk.

It would be so easy just to say Mandy…

“Mickey.” He waited for Pecker’s reaction, but there was none.

“Well, tell Mickey to send plenty of foot powder and baby wipes. We’re gonna need it out there.”

“Will do.”

Ian headed back to his bunk and wrote to everyone back home until the early morning hours.


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AbfgxznPmZM

At some point, the buzzing in Mickey’s bones had settled and his days settled back into their normal routine without any abnormal outbursts. Mandy had told him that no news was always good news, and he knew she was right. Svet reminded him that they lived in more of a war zone than Ian was dealing with every day, and somehow even that made him feel better. He knew Ian knew his shit – he was trained 18 years to watch his back on the streets of the South side, and now trained by the Army – he’d be fine. At night, when he laid in bed staring at the ceiling long past he should be sleeping, Mickey still reminded himself that Ian was fine.

On one of those sleepless nights, Mickey’s phone buzzed with a text from Lip: You got mail.

Mickey sat straight up in bed and immediately typed a response: Leave it on the porch. I’ll be by.

Ten minutes later he was pulling up in front of the Gallagher house where Lip was sitting on the front porch. “Shit.”

“Mickey. How’s it going?”

Mickey nodded, hoping this could be an in and out sort of thing, but he didn’t see any mail waiting for him.

“Phillip.” He said disdainfully, “You got something for me?”

Lip couldn’t help but laugh, having heard those exact words from Mickey a dozen times in the past when he’d come to collect for goods delivered. “You want a beer?”

No. Mickey did not want a beer. He wanted his god damned mail. “Yeah, sure. Why not.” There had been a time in high school that Lip and Mickey almost became friends, but it hadn’t lasted long. Mickey was a street kid, through and through, and Lip had begun to think his shit didn’t stink when his school counselors started putting college thoughts in his head. For a while, they still got high together, usually on the Gallagher’s back porch, and often around the time Ian was expected to get home from his late shifts at work, but Lip had never connected those things. Hanging out with Lip had come to a quick stop the night Ian showed up in Mickey’s room drunk though.

Lip handed him one from the remaining six-pack beside him, “Mandy said you quit.”

He hadn’t, in fact. It was the one vice he’d held on to –his compromise, of sorts, for having given everything else up. Mickey took a long drink. “Then why the fuck did you offer if you thought I quit?”

Lip shrugged, “Figured you could use it.”

“The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just thought with Ian gone and all…” Lip lit a joint and took a long hit, then passed it to Mickey. This time Mickey rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Fuck. Never thought I’d see the day a Milkovich said no to a fucking joint. You sure?”

“Listen, you got shit for me or not?” He finished his beer and tossed the empty bottle out onto the grass. “It’s late.” He didn’t like Lip. He didn’t know what Mandy saw in him either, and right now the only Gallagher he wanted to spend time with was Ian, even if it was on a piece of paper. Lip gave in and went into the house for his letter. A minute later he was back with a large yellow manila envelope.

“He sent them all in one envelope. I already took the other three out. The rest are yours.”

Mickey looked inside and saw about a dozen smaller white envelopes tucked inside and his heart swelled. “Thanks.” He’d almost made a clean getaway from the yard.

“Hey, Mickey – Don’t fuck my brother over, ok? I mean, I don’t really know the situation between you two right now, but from the looks of that envelope, it seems pretty serious, at least on his end. I just don’t want him out there in the desert worrying about home and shit when he should be worrying about staying alive.”

“Yeah, whatever. You start paying my bills and shit, then you get an opinion. Until then, mind your own fucking business and don’t worry about me… or your brother.” Mickey offered a single finger salute goodnight and left it at that.

He made it halfway home, the envelope in the seat next to him screaming for attention before he pulled to the side of the road. He dumped the contents out onto his lap and counted, one, two, three… eleven envelopes. Some paper-thin, others that felt like they had several sheets folded up inside. It took everything at that moment to put the car into Drive and continue home. When he got there, he rushed to his room, tossing the envelope on the bed as he pulled off his jeans, willing himself to have a little fucking self-control… but he practically tripped himself as he pulled his leg free from his pants and jumped to the bed. He dumped the envelopes out again, this time lining them all up with the front-facing him. Each of them fully addressed to him with Ian’s return APO address in the corner. On the bottom left-hand corner, they were numbered, starting with “1.”

Mickey arranged them numerically then went straight to work opening the first letter. It was two pages long, both sides.

‘Hi Mick –'

Mickey’s phone rang before he got any farther.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” He got ready to hit the ignore button when he noticed the exchange – 093, “What the… Hello?”

“Miss me?”

In fact, he had. He just didn't realize how much until he heard Ian's voice again.


	47. Chapter 47

“Where the fuck have you been?” Mickey tried to sound indignant, but the wide smile on his face came through loud and clear to Ian. It was good to hear Ian laugh.

That first call was full of static and fuzzy, making Ian sound a million miles away, and it only lasted a few minutes, so Mickey let Ian ramble as much as he wanted to, grateful to hear his voice. Ian asked about Yevgeny and Svet.

“I think Svet might be pregnant?”

“What the fuck, are you kidding me?” Ian laughed, “How? Who? I mean, what do you think about all that?”

“Said she wasn’t earning any fucking money staying home, and I’m not about to pay for fucking daycare so she can start giving blow jobs in an alley someplace so she decided to do some surrogate shit.”

“No way! Like a rent a womb?”

“Ha! Rent a womb! Yeah, something like that. I’m gonna tell her you said that. She’ll like that. Anyway, she’s been all bitching and moaning about being sick lately, so it’s either the flu or she found a tenant.”

“That’s…so weird. And kind of amazing too. Good for her. Tell her I send my love.”

“The fuck I will. Tell her your damn self.” Mickey grumbled.

“Yeah, I guess I can do that. Of course, that’s one less piece of paper to write to you, but, whatever.”

“Fuck you, asshole.” Mickey could hear the restless men behind Ian, egging him on to kiss his girl goodbye and let them have a turn, and he knew their time had run out.

“I should probably get going – everyone’s in line waiting.” Ian pressed the phone closer to his ear, desperate to catch every last breath he could and hold on a minute longer. “I sent a few letters. Mailed the first ones over a week ago, so hopefully, you’ll be getting them soon.”

“Yeah, just picked them up actually. Was about to open them up.” The grumbling from the men waiting on Ian grew louder ‘Come on, Gallagher, get the fuck off!’ Mickey wanted to tell them to all fuck the fuck off. “You being safe out there?” He asked, hoping to keep Ian just a few seconds more. “I mean, I know you know your shit and all, but –“ 

“I’m good, Mickey. Got a good team of guys here.” His time was up. “Listen, Mickey, I gotta go. I’ll call as soon as I can, ok?”

“Sure, talk to you later.” They both hesitated and ignored the bitching and moaning of men in the background.

“I love you, Mickey.” The moaning turned to whistles and teasing, making them both laugh.

“Love you too, asshole. Be careful.”

The call ended, leaving the room in heavy silence, but Mickey wasted no time grabbing the first letter. 

Hi Mick, I miss you… Still waiting on my lost sea bag… Nearly two weeks to get to leatherneck. I had your address on my phone, so I’m sending these to Lip. Hope you get them before I get back to the states... beer in Ireland tastes like piss… Johnston threw up on every flight. After 9 hours and no fresh air, everyone on the plane started smelling that shit. I’m just glad I wasn’t sitting close to him… had to spend half a paycheck buying new shit, then my bag showed up the next day… His name is Ryan Pecker, arrogant little shit reminds me of you a bit… Greeves' wife had a kid two days after we got here. I can’t imagine missing something like that, but then I realize there are so many things I’m going to miss, like Yevy’s first birthday… finally got to our outpost, spent the day building hesco walls out of cages and mud. Tore my hands up… Pecker brought about 200 pirated movies on his laptop and a projector. The sand killed his projector first night here, but we all still gather around and watch… As soon as the satellite phone rounds to our outpost, I’ll call… we have to collect our shit in bags and take it out and bury it… bought a goat in town to kill for dinner. Anything is better than the shit they’re trying to pass for food … on patrol for 14 hours last night. There’s some shit here I can’t write about, but ask me when I’m back… blew a hole in the side of the truck, and a piece of metal ripped through his pant leg. Another inch and he’d be… got a box of s’mores from Fiona. The chocolate was already melted, but we still… 

Mickey read the letters slow for two hours, soaking in every detail and trying to picture the camp exactly as Ian had described it, its hesco mud walls and makeshift basketball court, the baby powder fine sand that infiltrated every crease in his body, the solar showers that were good for about two minutes, the baby wipe baths that were more common, the men on Ian’s team that were responsible for keeping him alive just as he was responsible for them as well, the military meals that came in giant boxes and sat out in the desert sun for weeks at a time, the M-ATV truck that Ian got blown up in the first week and the MRAP (Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected) truck he’d been riding in ever since. He read a few letters twice, the shorter ones… the ones where Ian talked about home and how much he missed everything normal – a cheeseburger, water that didn’t have sand in it, long hot showers, weekend pizza in his underwear, falling asleep with Yevgeny in his arms, long sleepless nights with Mickey. 

It was almost 4 a.m. before he put them all back into their respective envelopes and tucked them into his drawer, each in numerical order. Ian had said that those were the first letters, so Mickey hoped that meant more were coming, but by the length of the last few he’d read, Ian was staying busy most of his days out on patrol and there was less time to write. Mickey laid his head back on his pillow, trying to get just an hour or so of sleep before his alarm would go off for work, but instead his thoughts kept running back to Ian somewhere on the other side of the world, and he knew without a doubt, that at that very moment, Ian was also thinking of him.


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=CQ8ZHilxdm8&feature=share

The morning sun cast long shadows on the poppy field valley below. From Ian’s perch atop the cliff his unit had camped on two hundred feet above the village, he could see the men below bow into their morning prayers. He pulled his collar around his neck against the chill and sipped at the bitter mud that barely qualified as coffee, rubbing his thumb mindlessly along the edge of the photos he carried with him on patrol. It was the most peaceful moment he’d had in almost six months since he’d arrived, and the irony that he would likely be in a firefight with the men praying below in just a few short hours wasn’t lost on him.

Afghanistan was not a soft place, in any sense of the word. The earth, like the mountains, was rock hard, covered in sand so fine it could only be compared to the powder of incense – moon dust, as it was called. It killed everything electronic that it came in contact with – cell phones, cameras, iPods, laptops, and as Ian had quickly learned, sat phones. His first phone call home had been his last and he’d played it over and over in his mind, retracing Mickey’s words and chasing his voice as they walked for miles through the desert. This was no desert Ian had ever known though. The rainy season had come, and with it a bitter cold that sank so deep in his bones it was impossible to shake. Between the rain, the cold, and the sand storms, it was the most miserable he could remember ever being in his life, and there had been no relief from it for nearly two months. Everyone who’d been there before kept promising that February would bring warmer weather, but that still seemed so far away.

“Weird, isn’t it?” Ian jumped a little at the sudden appearance of Pecker, taking a seat beside him with his own cup of coffee.

“What’s that?”

Pecker pointed to the men below, “Them. Us. We’re like that old Looney Tunes cartoon, you know, with the sheepdog and the coyote. They’d both get up in the morning, shower, shave, punch in on a time clock and say ‘Good morning, Sam,’ ‘Good morning, Ralph.’ Then they’d spend the day trying to kill each other, and at the end of their shift, they go punch out on the time clock. What? You’ve never seen that cartoon before?”

Ian shook his head, “Didn’t watch a lot of Looney Tunes, I guess.”

“That sounds like a shit childhood.” Pecker joked, then nodded to photos in Ian’s lap, “Whatcha got there?”

“Just some pictures from home. My family.” He handed them to Pecker. “Just got ‘em a few days ago, but they go back to Halloween.”

“Gotta love mail delivery here, amirite?” He flipped through the photos. “This must be Yev… groovy?”

Ian laughed, “Yevgeny… just call him Yevy. It’s easier. Yeah, that’s him on his first birthday.”

“Aw, shit man. Sorry you missed that. And who are they?”

“My sister Fiona, my brother Lip, my other sister Debbie.”

“The hell kind of name is Lip?” Pecker asked.

“It’s a nickname. Short for Philip.” Pecker flipped to a new picture.

“That’s Carl, Iggy, Lip, Mickey, Mandy, Yevy, Svet – “

“Whoa, slow down. Which one’s the famous Mickey I keep hearing so much about? The redhead or the blonde?”

It was true, Ian had brought up Mickey more than a few times talking with Pecker. He was one of the few men he talked to about his family back home, but he’d kept the details to a minimum: ‘Mickey said Yevy is walking. Mickey said the water heater broke. Mickey’s looking for a new place to move because the landlord is an asshole.’ He’d never mentioned that Mickey was a brunet. It seemed like such a minor detailed compared to so many other things he might have mentioned about Mickey. He looked at Mandy and Svet and tried to decide which one he should choose.

“Actually… Mickey’s the brunet.”

Pecker squinted his eyes and moved the picture away from the morning sun’s glare, wondering which of the women was brunette. Ian reached over and pointed at Mickey.

“That’s him.” His finger looked steady and sure, but his heart was racing and he held his breath waiting for Pecker’s reaction.

“Wait. Mickey’s –“ his brows furrowed as the cogs clicked into place, “Mickey, Mickey? Like your Mickey? He’s a guy?”

Ian dared to glance at Pecker and gave a little nod. “Yep.”

“Well, fuck me, Gallagher. I did not see that coming.”

“That’s what she said,” Ian said, both of them laughing.

“Anybody else … you know… I mean, any of the other guys know this?” Pecker asked, looking back at the men behind them.

Ian shook his head. “Not unless you told them.”

Pecker chuckled. “No. I don’t tell anyone shit.” He left it at that and turned to the next picture, “She’s hot.”

“That’s Mickey’s sister, Mandy.”

“You should introduce us.”

“She’d destroy you, Peck. Chew you up and spit you out, then have you thanking her for a good time. Mandy ain’t no fucking joke.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Gallagher! Now I really want to meet her.” He laughed.

Ian nodded. Pecker was all right. He was definitely someone Ian trusted, and after spending five months on patrol with him, he knew Pecker actually had the balls to take on a girl like Mandy. “All right. When we get back, I’ll introduce you, but if she beats the shit outta you, don't say I didn’t warn you.”

“She just sounds better all the time.”

The men below finished their prayers and began to disperse, some disappearing back into their baked huts, others gathering in groups and walking toward fields to work. A few gathered into a small group and looked up where Ian and Pecker sat at the edge of the rocky cliff. Pecker offered them a salute. Ian raised his middle finger.

“Guess we should get this show on the road, huh?”


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=faFqE-CP5Io&feature=share

It took them three hours to arrive at the village with a convoy of 5 trucks and twenty men. By the time they arrived, the Taliban men were hidden among the rest of the villagers, sitting on rooftops or in darkened windows just out of sight. Three men from each truck took to the streets on foot as the trucks crawled along beside them with only a driver and the .50 cal manned. Before walking a full five steps the kids began to swarm, begging for candy. Ian waived them off, dismissing their pleas in broken Pashto and gently pushing them away as they tried to reach for his pockets. Always too much of a pushover, Pecker stepped up to help.

“Go! Get outta here!” He lunged at the kids, making them jump back, some running into their darkened doorways and others glaring at him. Without a doubt, Pecker knew if he ever came back to this country again, he’d likely be facing those same kids on a battlefield. It was inevitable, all young boys grew up into the fight at some point.

“Peck, don’t be such a fucking dick, man. They just wanted candy.” 

It was a punishable rule not to be broken that no soldier was to hand out candy, not that they ever had any to hand out, but Ian always felt bad for the little kids living in that desert world. There weren’t TVs or phones, no computer or even Wi-Fi, and ninety-five percent of the time there wasn’t even electricity. At night the villages sat dark, and the few windows that were lit up with electric light were likely also filled with Taliban operatives. Any person caught with a phone of any kind was automatically assumed to be a terrorist and was held for interrogation. It was as if the country had evolved to the year 3 A.D. and decided “that’s far enough,” then just stopped. Everything was primitive and made of stone, and anything that wasn’t was to be considered suspicious, so it was no surprise that the kids of the village were immediately intrigued the first time they’d tasted anything as wildly delicious as a Jolly Rancher.

“Yeah, well we don’t have any, and one of those little fuckers would just as quickly light himself up to take ten of us out as he would be to beg you for a stick of gum.”

Ian rolled his eyes. Pecker was right. No one could be trusted there. Not a 90-year-old grandmother slowly strolling across their path or a 4-year-old girl sent out from her hut to beg a soldier for candy. Either one of them could just as likely be strapped with C-4 and sacrificed for the Taliban’s cause.

“Hey, what’s that up ahead?” Ian held his hand up, bringing the slow-moving vehicles on his left and the troops behind him to a halt, and waited for his Sgt. to come up to the front. He pointed to a group gathered to the west. The Sgt. called for their translator who quickly told them it looked like a street bazaar about 2 city blocks down.

“We need to turn around Sarge?” Johnson asked, ready to load up and get the hell out of dodge as quickly as possible. The Sgt. gathered a bit more info from the translator, finding out that the bazaar had only opened up that morning.

“Nah. Those things usually go on a good four days before some idiot decides to blow himself up. I think we’ll be all right.” He looked around at his men, “Double up, men! Keep your eyes open, and keep moving. I see anyone of you assholes stopping to buy so much as a fucking chicken, and I’ll have your ass, got it? Let’s go.”

The first bazaar Ian had come across was something like a scene from Aladdin, with everything on sale from scarves and rugs, to drugs and daughters. They’d walked into it when their troops had divided up into two groups, his Sgt. going with the other group, so it was unknown to him and the other twelve men he was with that the last place you ever wanted to be in Afghanistan was at a bazaar. When the Sgt. caught wind that half his team was picking up handfuls of salt and goat jerky, he came in like a tsunami, ripping each of them from the sand they stood in and making them wish for quick death over the smoking he handed out. It was then that Ian quickly learned every bazaar eventually ended with a suicide bomber taking out half the people and their wares.

“Then why the fuck would they have them?” He had asked one of the veteran soldiers.

“Because these people can’t survive if they don’t sell their shit. And so, they sell their shit and hope to survive.”

Ian found that same vet, Marquez, among the men and asked again, “I don’t get it. Why are we going in? I thought we were supposed to stay clear of bazaars.”

“They just set up this morning. No assholes gonna blow it up on the first fucking day. Gotta buy some of that virgin pussy before they blow the rest of the shit up.” He laughed.

The Sgt. let the men take more time than he’d warned them to take, allowing them to buy up spices and veggies which they desperately craved after eating MRIs for weeks on end. They weaved in and out of stands, two and three at a time, speaking in their broken Pashto, laughing with the villagers who laughed at them for the misspoken words, while keeping their eyes moving along the crowd at every moment to make sure they knew where every single adult male in the crowd of people was. 

Ian walked with Pecker, not interested in filling his pockets with shit the rain or sand would destroy in a day or two, his gun at his chest ready to go and his eyes meeting those of every person he passed. As they neared the last stands of the bazaar, ready to meet their trucks on the other side, a sinking feeling fell into the pit of his stomach. Instead of an open road on the other side, it was a wall 8 feet high, hung with colorful bolts of silk fabric which gave the illusion of more carts ahead.

It was a dead-end, and every foot soldier in Ian’s unit quickly realized they were cornered in.

That’s when the ground fell out beneath him.


	50. Chapter 50

MANDY: When me and Ian were little, we had that thing – you know, the thing where you think you can feel each other’s pain or think each other’s thoughts – Like ESP or telecom-something-or-other. Well, maybe we just had the same pain and thoughts because we were living in the same hell, but either way, he always seemed to know when something was bothering me, as I did with him. It was the same with Mickey and Iggy. Iggy was easier, but he’s a simpleton, so usually I could just read his moods – hungry, tired, high, pissed – the usual. 

Mickey wasn’t so hard either, but with him, there were real feelings, you know? Deep, emotional – not that he would ever show them on the surface – but they were there and I felt them a lot with him. As we got older, I stopped asking him “are you ok” or “something bothering you…” because his instant answer was always “fuck off,” but either way, I could feel it. All that to say that I always thought that if someone I was close to died, I would somehow know before I got the call. Maybe I’d get a feeling of some kind of premonition. That didn’t happen.

I think it was because I hadn’t seen him in forever, so I couldn’t feel him in my life anymore, or maybe it was because my life had become such a fucking dramatic mess that I had just closed myself off to everyone in that way, but when I finally found out, it still floored me – and not in the worst way. I was in the middle of a full-on fight (no surprise there) with Lip, throwing his shit out onto the front porch and screaming like one of the damn fool bitches who live on the block and kicks their shithead boyfriends out every other day. Mickey was sitting on the hood of his car laughing at me because he’s a fucking prick. He could have been helping me throw Lip’s shit out of the house, or even threatened him in case he didn’t leave – nothing like that – he just happened to drive up in the middle of it all and took a front-row seat. Asshole. 

Lip was doing what he always did best, treating me like I was blowing shit out of proportion and giving me that shit-eating grin of his as he argued, “I didn’t even like her!” Bullshit! I was over worrying if he actually liked a bitch before he’d fuck them. Hell, he’d fucked enough of them for me to know he couldn’t even remember their names, so liking them was never the issue. I’m ashamed to say it took me as long as it did to kick his ass to the curb. If Ian had been there, he would have kicked Lip’s ass and set all his shit on fire right there in the yard with me, but he wasn’t there – I missed my best friend.

Anyway, Lip was jabbering his lies and Mickey was sitting on his ass laughing when the black sedan pulled up. It was too shiny and too fucking new to be in our neighborhood on purpose, so immediately assumed it a cop. Mickey gave me a quick look as if asking if the house was clean, and thank fuck it was. With Iggy gone most of the time, his stash was gone with him, and with Mickey out of the game, the only thing the cops were likely to find was a joint or two on Lip. 

God, I really wished they had.  
\----------------------------------------

“How’s it going?” The slacks-wearing douche behind the wheel stepped from his car, looking at Mickey warily, then walked carefully around the clothes thrown along the sidewalk.

“The fuck do you want?” Mickey was on his feet and following the guy toward the house.

“Uh,” he paused and looked around at the three strangers now eyeing him as he neared the front gate. “I, uhm, I was…”

“Spit it the fuck out, asshole. You a cop?” Lip took a step between the stranger and Mandy, standing a bit taller as if to shield her from danger, but Mandy scoffed and pushed him hard out of the way.

“The fuck do you want?” She barked, taking a step closer to the stranger who now took a step back, bumping into Mickey who had come up behind him.

“Hey, listen, I don’t want any trouble, ok? I’m just trying to do my job and deliver…” He held out a manila envelope which was immediately snatched from his hand. Mickey didn’t even bother to read the front of it before replying.

“Ok, delivery over. Now get the fuck outta here before I take your fucking shiny new cop car and strip it for parts.”

“I’m not a cop… I…” The three others now had him circled and were walking him back towards the gate. “Listen, I’m not a cop, I work for the Illinois Department of…”

“You look like a fucking cop! Get the fuck outta here unless you have a warrant.” Mandy snarled, pushing his chest and making him stumble a step. She looked at Mickey, “Is that a warrant?” Mickey realized he might be holding a warrant and threw it to the ground.

“No, wait. You don’t understand. Just let me explain.” The stranger stammered. He tripped over a crack in the sidewalk as he neared his car, then reached back to touch the hood as if it were home base to keep him safe. “I’m not a cop. I’m just trying to deliver that.”

“Like I said, delivery is done. Get the fuck out.”

The stranger ran around to the driver’s door, “Jesus Christ, I’m just… I’m not a cop. I’m just delivering that envelope for Terry Milkovich’s family!” He opened his door, but the mention of Terry piqued Mickey’s interest.

“You looking for Terry? Why? Did he escape or something?” He laughed.

“No. He died.” The stranger pointed at the envelope laying in the dirt, “That’s what I was trying to tell you. I was looking for his next of kin.”

Mickey, Mandy, and Lip all came to a sudden halt and stood silently taking in what the stranger had said. 

“Oh shit.”

“Dead, huh? Why didn’t you say so?” Mickey added. Changing his entire demeanor, he said, “Shit, come in. We’ll have a drink and celebrate.”

“Are you… are you his son?” The stranger didn’t budge, staying safely behind his car door.

“Yeah. Son… daughter.” Mickey said, pointing to Mandy. “Your ‘next of kin,’ considering no one else is likely to claim that fucker.”

“O-oh… ok then. Well, in that case, that’s everything you need there.” He pointed at the envelope nervously, thought about offering his condolences, which was the main reason he was there on behalf of the state, but decided he’d overstayed his welcome as it was. “I’m just gonna go.” He said, cautiously getting back into his car, his eye on the three of them as he locked the doors and started the engine.  
\-----------------

  
“Svet! Svetlana, where the fuck are you?” Mickey called out, stepping around Mandy’s unpacked boxes. He set two boxes of pizza on the coffee table and lifted his son from his playpen.

“fck, Dada!” Yevgeny repeated excitedly when he saw his daddy come in the house. “fck!” 

“Oh shit. No Yevy. Shhh shh shh shh. Don’t say that. Where’s mama?”

“I’m back here. Stop cussing. He repeats everything now.” She called from the kitchen.

Mickey found her standing on the 4th step of a rickety ladder, spackling nail holes in the wall. 

“Christ, Svet. Are you trying to kill yourself? Don’t think you’re supposed to be doing that in your condition.”

“What condition? It was a false alarm, again. The doctor said I’m just getting fat, but no baby. If I don’t get pregnant, I’m going to have to get a real job soon. Maybe we should just fuck again and sell the baby.”

“Don’t even fucking think about it. The job or us fucking. Ain’t gonna happen. ‘Sides, Mandy’s paying a little rent now, so we’re doing ok.”

The news of Terry’s had come 4 months after he’d actually died. The state, in their ever-incompetent manner, had somehow managed to leave the paperwork on the desk of a Parole Officer who had been canned two days before Terry died, and while some of the files had been distributed, Terry’s had fallen into the void at the bottom of a file cabinet. That’s where it sat until long after his body had gone unclaimed, then cremated. The manila envelope that had been delivered to Mickey and Mandy included a few personal items Terry had on him when they had arrested him and a letter to the state’s attorney who was handling the mishandling of Terry’s death. 

Within days of the news of Terry’s demise, a tax lien notice on the property also arrived – Four years of delinquent taxes and legal fees, and a writ to vacate the property in 90 days if not paid in full. The Milkovich offspring, at least those interested enough in the conversation, decided the house was falling apart around them, so after a brief discussion, they decided to sell the shit hole for whatever they could get and split any profits they made. The house went under contract almost immediately, with a developer who planned to raze the house and build condos.

“Jokes on them,” Mickey had scoffed, as he co-signed the paperwork with Mandy, “No fucking idiot would move into this neighborhood, shiny new condo or not.” He didn’t care though – they’d sold the house for more than any of them had imagined they could get, and it would go a long way to getting a decent place for his family once they closed escrow. Until then, Mandy had moved her things into Mickey’s tiny apartment and was sleeping on the couch and living out of boxes while he looked for something better. 

“What is deal with your sister? Is she moving with us? Because if she goes with us, she can help with the baby and I can get a job.”

“The fuck are you gonna do for work, give blow jobs at the bar for five bucks a pop? You don’t know how to do shit.”

“You are stupid fucking ass. I can do bookkeeping. I did for many years before. If I work in good office, maybe I can suck a dick on my lunch break – ten dollars.” She made an “O” with her lips and pumped a fist in front of it, “See? Go get me ten dollars and I’ll show you.” 

“Fuck you. Stay away from my junk.” He winced, disgusted with the idea, and wondered how they had ever made a kid together. The front door opened and closed, and two sets of footsteps came into the house. “Mandy!? That you?”  
  
“Mickey, I need… Can you come here?” Mandy replied, sounding small and scared. Svetlana crawled down from the ladder and took her son, then followed Mickey. “Mick…” Mandy’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, and Lip stood behind her looking equally upset.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Mandy covered her mouth as tears streamed down her face, “The fuck is going on here? What happened?”

“Ian’s been… I’m not exactly sure, actually. Ian’s missing.” Lip answered. 

The blood ran from Mickey's face and his legs went weak. He took a seat on the arm of a chair. “The fuck does that mean, ‘missing?’” his voice was calm and quiet but his mind raced to try to make sense of it.

“I don’t know. Some guys came by the house… I-I-I called Mandy as soon as I heard. I thought it would be better to tell her in person, you know… then we could come and let you know what was going –“ 

“Then fucking tell me what’s going on, Phillip! What the fuck do you mean he’s missing? What the fuck did they tell you?” Yevgeny began to cry as Mickey’s voice rose. Svetlana retreated to her room to calm him, listening through the door to hear more.

“Two dudes in a black car pulled up in front of the house, government plates and all. One of them was a priest or a Chaplain or some shit. Anyway, I thought he was dead, you know? But they sat us all down and said he went missing about 18 hours ago, and –“

“Eighteen hours!? And they’re just fucking telling you now?”

“Mickey, calm down!” Mandy pleaded. 

“Mickey, come on – it’s not like news travels very fast out there. Hell, I’m surprised they told us that quickly, but I guess it was all over the news so they had to contact the families.”

“So, what the fuck are they doing? Do they send the fucking A-Team out there or some shit to find him? What are they called… the the the… fuck! The Blue Berets or the SEALs?” Mickey was nearing a panic at Lip’s lack of solutions.

“No… no green berets or SEALs. They have a couple teams out there looking for him. Apparently, his whole team got ambushed, almost half of them –“ Lip hesitated to finish the sentence. He hadn’t even told Mandy the full story, knowing it would upset her, but he knew Mickey wasn’t going to settle for bits and pieces.

“Half of them what??” Mickey demanded.

“Half of his team was killed,” Lip said.

The air was sucked out of the room and Mickey felt like he might pass out, “What about the other half. Are they missing too? Maybe they got away, maybe their hiding out, you know? Waiting for the cavalry to come, or some shit.” 

“Uhm… five of the men Ian was on patrol with were medevac’d out to a hospital unit, in pretty bad shape. Ian was one of two men unaccounted for.”

“That doesn’t make fucking sense. Where would he go? It’s a fucking desert out there – just fly a fucking Blackhawk around until they find them!”

Lip stood quietly, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease Mickey’s worries. There were no solutions he could offer that he hadn’t already asked the uniformed messengers that had come to his own house. Ian was missing – it was all they could tell him – and they would keep him informed of any updates as soon as they knew more.

“Listen… I should get out of here; give you guys some time with this. They said they’d be in touch with any more information as soon as they found him.” 

Lip walked out, leaving Mandy and Mickey silent and stunned with the only break in the silence from Yevgeny in the other room who kept repeating “Fck! Fck! Fck!” to Svetlana’s protests.


	51. Chapter 51

Primitive as Afghanistan was, the deep-rooted custom of hospitality was one area the rest of the world could take a lesson from them on. While most Afghan people went out of their way to avoid talking to or interacting with an American soldier in the streets, for fear of retaliation from the Taliban, none would ever turn a blind eye to a stranger in their own home. Regardless of who it was, a guest was always welcomed and given the utmost respect and kept from any harm that might come their way to the best of their host's ability.

Ian and Johnson were experiencing their hospitality first hand. When the first IED in the marketplace had exploded and Taliban opened fire on the American soldiers, Ian had the great fortune of being closest to the wall, half of which was blown outward along with his buddy Pecker. It left Pecker scattered in pieces on the sand, but also provided a great, gaping hole for Ian to escape. He took cover immediately and began to return fire, but the chaos of screaming villagers and their market wares flying in every direction made it nearly impossible for him to offer his team the assistance needed. 

Cautiously, he made his way back into the firefight. It might have been two minutes or even ten that the gunfire continued, but it felt like an hour or more. Ian took cover and he made his way back to three of his teammates. Just a few feet from them he saw the look on one of their faces turn to shock, and they all came to a sudden halt. The man in the center yelled, “Run!” He knew by the click under his foot that his time on this earth had come to an end, but before he could spare the life of his teammates, one Taliban took his shot and knocked him from the IED trigger he was standing on. The explosion taking all three of them out, throwing Ian fifteen feet onto his back. That was the last thing he remembered before losing consciousness. 

He woke up hours later, in a cool dark room without windows, the only light seeping in through a crack at the bottom of a door, his thoughts as muddled as his bearings as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. When he tried to sit up, all the strength from his body was gone, and he was unable to push himself up with his right arm or roll himself to his side with his legs.

“Heyyy! Hello…” he tried calling, his throat parched and dry. “Where am I?”

The door opened, flooding white light across his face and making him wince as he peeked through slatted eyes. He couldn’t make out the person in front of him, his vision blurred and distorted, but he knew one thing for certain – it wasn’t an American soldier. Ian tried to shrink back, away from the aggressor, but his broken body didn’t move. When the man reached him, he only leaned in gently and began speaking quietly in Pashtu, too quickly for Ian to pick out any familiar words as he held his hands up to show Ian he meant no harm.

“Whoa, stop, get back! Who are you? What’s going on… I can’t move my legs.” He tried pushing the man away with his one working arm but was too weak.

“Gallagher! Oh my god, you’re awake! I thought you were dead, man! Fuck, I can’t fucking believe it!” It was Johnson’s voice, Ian was sure of it. He could see Johnson coming closer from the doorway, then felt as he took Ian’s hand in a brotherly grip and shook it. “Oh my god, I can’t believe it,” Johnson said gratefully.

“Where are we?” Ian sipped gratefully at the water that his Afghan host was offering him. He tried to focus on the man beside him who was checking his bandages but his vision stayed cloudy.

Johnson quickly filled Ian in on the moments after the second IED. Johnson, who had been taking cover nearby, took the opportunity to run from the firefight when a nearby wall had come crashing down along with Ian’s other three teammates. Ian had been thrown back and buried under much of the debris, which is where Johnson had found him coughing up blood just near the hole in the back wall. About that time, 50 caliber rounds had begun filling the air, and anyone still standing at the bazaar was cut down, so Johnson threw Ian over his shoulder ran him out the back before the next round of explosions began. He ran a full city block, dodging bullets that flew too close for comfort, then rounded a corner and entered the first open doorway he found. There they were greeted by an old, wrinkled, gray-haired man, and his wife, both staring silently at their unexpected guests as the firefight right around the corner continued.

Johnson, in his broken Pashtu, begged them to help his friend, but it was all coming out in gibberish, then, at last, the old woman waved him toward the back room of the house to hide. When the gunfire had ended, the chaos outside on the streets of the village continued as the Taliban roamed the roadways shooting off their rifles, indifferent to the additional destruction they were causing, celebrating what they considered a great victory over the Americans. 9 men dead, several others who had to be rescued and rushed from the village. Apparently, 9 Americans killed was a victory to them, even though more than 40 of their own people were left dead on the road as well.

“So, I guess we just wait now. I mean, they gotta know we’re missing, right? They won’t leave us behind, and eventually, they’ll send someone in here to find us. I mean, it’s not like you can just walk out of here – not in your condition.” Johnson said warily. 

Ian wondered exactly what his condition was. He wasn’t feeling much pain, and yet he couldn’t seem to move much of his body either. His legs felt bound, and his arm was definitely wrapped in bandages, but the room was too dark to see the details. Johnson explained that the numbness might be thanks to something the old man had been giving Ian for pain “you’re all fucked up on opium and shit, dude!” – or, he added hesitantly, it could have been from nerve damage Ian may have suffered. Hearing those words floored Ian, and if he hadn’t already been lying on a mat on the ground, surely his legs would have gone from under him at the thought of being paralyzed. 

“Johnson,” Ian said desperately, “We can’t stay here. We have to get out of here.” He said, grabbing at Johnson’s arm as if to rise up at that moment and walk out. “I can’t fucking die here. I can’t –“ 

“Gallagher! Gallagher, stop! Relax. Chill the fuck out, dude. Nothing’s gonna happen to you here, ok? The old man already sent some kid out to scout for help. I mean, I’d go myself, but like I said, the fucking Taliban is out there looking for us. I-I can’t… I mean, you know… I gotta stay here and make sure you’re ok, right?” 

The fear in Johnson’s voice echoed in the darkness, but Ian just nodded his head and squeezed his friend’s arm as if he hadn’t noticed. “Yeah. Yeah, ok. A kid, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean, he was about ten or so, so I’m sure he’ll be ok. Sent him out to find someone to let them know we’re here. It’s all cool though, ya hear? These people are like superheroes, man. The old man already went toe to toe with some asshole who came to his door asking if they knew anything about American soldiers, and the old man chased them off. He fuckin’ had your back, man. We’re gonna get outta here, ok?”

Ian laid his head back and closed his eyes as his host continued to check his dressings. Johnson kept talking, but Ian wasn’t listening. His mind was already far away, on Mickey and Lip and Mandy and everyone back home. One thing he knew for sure – if any of them were here with him now, the fucking Taliban would be scrambling to save their own asses because there was no fucking way Mickey, Lip, or even Mandy would be hiding out in some dark cave hoping to be rescued. In his current condition, there weren’t many other options for Ian, so he decided to trust the old man and his scout and hope for the best. What else was there?


	52. Chapter 52

No news is good news. That’s what Lip said every time Mickey asked if he’d heard anything. The fuck did that even mean? No news wasn’t good if it meant Ian was lying face down in the sand someplace. The only news that was good news would be when they found him safe and sound and sent him home. Mickey scoured the tv stations and online new articles hoping to find more information about what had happened, but the few reports he found were all the same – 9 Americans and dozens of Afghan civilians were killed in a terrorist attack, and many more wounded; names were being withheld until family members could be notified. He tried calling the Red Cross but there was no information to be given. No one knew shit about Ian and kept trying to assure Mickey that no American soldiers were reported missing, a small detail the military was hoping to slide by the media until they had more solid information on their two missing men. 

It didn’t help to have Mandy at the house either. She spent her time asking Mickey useless questions about what he thought might have happened or crying over the thought of Ian being dead. It hadn’t even been a full day since Lip had brought the bad news, but Mickey was at his wit's end. He took his .45 from the closet and tucked it into his waistband, then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Mandy asked, jumping from the couch as Mickey put his coat on.

“Helping Colin with some shit today.”

“I’m coming!” She said, slipping into her shoes.

“No, you’re not. I need a fucking break from all this shit, plus I don’t need to be watching your ass. Got enough shit on my mind right now.” He grabbed a bat hanging by the front door and threw it over his shoulder and headed for his car.

Although Mickey wasn’t selling dope anymore, that didn’t stop him from collecting the money. Collection day was always a good day for Mickey, not only to put a few extra dollars in his own pocket, but it was a physical release he craved as well, a bit like joining a boxing gym – only instead of gloves he used a bat. It became obvious just a few short hours in that Mickey’s head wasn’t in the game though, and that was a problem. He was constantly checking his phone and shooting off texts, growing more and more frustrated. By the time Colin rolled into the alley behind the Satellite Bar, a frequent haunt of Tommy Branson who was $500 in the hole, Mickey was beginning to fidget anxiously in his seat, making his brother wonder if he was tweaking. Colin jerked Mickey’s face toward him once they parked to get a good look at his eyes.

“The fuck?” Mickey protested, pulling his head away from Colin’s grip. 

“Are you fucking high right now?” Mickey’s eyes were clear of any signs of intoxication, but there was something else there Colin couldn’t quite make out.

“No, I’m not fucking high? Are you?! Jesus fuck, let’s just get this shit over with.” He pulled the door handle but Colin grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat.

“Hey, asshole. I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you, but you need to get your head in the game. That means leave your fucking phone in the car.” He waited for Mickey to pull it from his pocket, “Now, Mickey. You waiting on a call or some shit? You’ve been on it all day, and the assholes in that bar ain’t gonna care if your bitch needs you to pick up diapers on your way home. When we walk in there, they’re gonna see you coming with a fucking bat and we’ll be lucky if we don’t get ten guys on our ass if you’re not paying attention. Now put your fucking phone in the glove!”

Mickey yanked his arm from Colin’s grip and threw his phone in the glove as he was told, then stepped from the car and grumbled a harmless, “Fuck you.”

Things inside the bar went about how Colin had anticipated. Three guys sitting at the bar saw Colin walk in first and offered a friendly nod, but when Mickey appeared behind him, their demeanor changed. They all sat a little taller, ready to jump into a fight if there was one, hoping it wasn’t them that Mickey was coming to see. It wouldn't be their first fight with Mickey or their last, but no one there ever looked forward to going toe to toe with him even on their best day.

“You seen Branson?” Colin asked no one in particular. 

At the sound of his name, Tommy Branson jumped from a booth near the back and made a run for the door. Colin was there first, and Mickey came up from behind.  
“Where the fuck are you going?” Mickey asked, sweeping one leg low and taking Tommy’s legs out from under him. Colin pulled his gun and held it on the three guys at the bar, warning others in the place to stay seated. Tommy was still attempting to break for the door, but Mickey was on him. Mickey pinned him down and searched his pockets – he knew Tommy didn’t have the money to pay. He was more interested in sending a message that he meant business if Tommy didn’t come through with the money soon. 

“Ah, look at this.” He held Tommy’s wallet up, and checked his address, “Looks like you live just a few blocks away. And who are these two little guys? You got sons, asshole? You’re fucking shooting shit up your nose when you got two little kids to fucking feed?” Mickey yanked Tommy’s head back and showed him the picture of his sons. “I swear to fuck, if you make me come to your house, you’re gonna fucking hope and pray these two are sleeping when I get there because I’ll fuck you up. You got that?” Tommy tried to nod. “You got ‘til midnight tomorrow to bring the money you owe. I ain’t gonna be running all over town to collect this shit, capiche?” 

Mickey took $37 from the wallet then slammed Tommy’s head into the floor, offering one last swift kick to his ribs as he stood up. “Consider this your first of two installments.” Mickey looked around the bar, making sure no one else had any dumb ideas of trying to get Tommy’s money back, then nodded to Colin who headed for the door first. 

They had almost cleared the room when one of the barstool patrons mumbled “Fucking Nazi pricks,” as Mickey passed by. Before the guy had a chance to spin himself to face the bar again, Mickey had a handful of his hair and slammed his head into the bar, pulling his gun quickly from his waistband and pointed it at his two buddies.

“The fuck did you just call me?? Do I look like fucking skinhead to you? Huh? You see any fucking swastikas on me?” 

Blood was dripping down the side of the bar as the guy shook his head. Colin was at Mickey’s side, his own gun drawn again as he calmly talked his brother down.

“That’s enough, Mick. We got no fight with this asshole. Let him go.”  
Mickey pressed the guy’s head harder, his hand shaking with rage, 

“You ever fucking call me a Nazi again, I’ll cut you down where you stand, you got it? I can’t fucking hear you!” He took the whimper and nod as an acceptable response then shoved the guy away. Mickey and Colin backed out of the bar, guns still drawn until they reached Colin’s car and sped away.

A half-mile later, Colin pulled onto a side road and parked. He jumped from the car, walked around the back, then opened Mickey’s door and dragged him out by the collar, throwing him to the ground. Colin had 6 inches and 80 pounds on Mickey, but Mickey was a scrappy fighter who could hold his own, so Colin didn’t bother to try to knock any sense in him. He just stood above his younger brother, chest heaving and pissed, trying to figure out what the fuck had just happened.

“You got some fucking death wish today, Mickey? What the fuck was that back there? There were twenty fucking guys in there, and I guaran-fuckin-tee you we weren’t the only two with a piece! Do not just stare at me, asshole! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Just then, Mickey’s phone beeped from the car. Instantly he forgot his brother and made a dive to get to it, but Colin threw him back again.

“Enough with the fucking phone!”

“Get the… just let me get the fucking phone! I’ll explain everything, but I need my fucking phone!” Now it began to ring, and Mickey went for Colin’s legs, taking him down and wrestling with him for a few seconds before breaking free and crawling to the car to grab his phone, kneeling in the gutter as he answered. 

“Hello, hello! Mandy, you there?”

At the mention of Mandy’s name, Colin stepped back and let Mickey talk. What was it that was so urgent between his brother and sister? Mickey was only offering “uh-huh… ok… so what’s next? Ok… So, we just fucking… unfuckingbelievable! YES! I’ll be there, Jesus Christ! I’ll be there.”

He hung up the phone and sunk onto the curb, his back against the open door panel.

“Was that Mandy? Is everything ok? What’s going on here, Mick? Is she in trouble?”

Mickey nodded, then covered his face with both hands and sighed. He stood up and pushed past his brother to walk away from the car. Colin was still talking, but Mickey just needed to catch his breath. Fear and relief collided in him and rendered him silent as he tried to find the words to answer his brother. He cleared his throat and blinked back tears, wiping them away before he turned around again.

“Mandy’s fine.” His voice shook. He cleared his throat and tried again, “She’s fine. Everyone’s ok. Come on, let’s get this shit done. I gotta get home.”  
“Nah, nah, Mickey. We’re done for the day. You need to tell me what the fuck is going on right now. You in some kind of trouble?”

Mickey swallowed hard and looked down the street. He wanted nothing more than to escape this conversation and just go home, but he knew he wasn’t going anywhere until Colin got some kind of answer. He took a deep breath before he spoke again, but this time the emotion welled up in him and caught him by surprise. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes hard, willing himself not to break, but it was too late. He felt his brother’s arms embrace him.

“Jesus, fuck, Mick. What the hell is going on? Talk to me.” Colin walked Mickey to the back of the car and waited for him to speak.

Mickey quickly pushed his emotions down and got control of himself again. What he wanted was to tell his brother was to give him a hit of whatever he had on him so he could get high and not think about Ian anymore. He was exhausted from trying to handle everything life kept throwing at him along with the bullshit of Ian missing too. It was just one hit – one time, and he nearly asked. 

“Can you just take me home, asshole?”

Yes, he absolutely could, Colin thought, but he said, “No. What’s up? And don’t fucking lie to me because you’ve been acting weird for months and I can’t put my finger on it, but you’ve got something to say and it’s time to just come right out and say it. You gotta start trusting me with shit, Mickey. I’m your fucking brother. If you can’t tell me, then we got a bigger problem here.”

Mickey nodded, but couldn’t look up at Colin. Finally, he said, “A, uh… friend of mine went missing.” He glanced quickly in his brother’s direction, then back down at the street, “He’s in the military. Mandy was just calling to let me know what’s going on.”

“Shit. He’d go AWAL or something?” Colin asked. “They’ll throw his ass in the slammer if they catch him.”

“No, nothing like that. He’s in Afghanistan. Fighting. But I guess his team got ambushed and now they can’t find him.” So far, so good, Mickey thought. He took a deep, quiet breath before he continued. “You might remember him. Ian… One of those fucking Gallaghers. The redhead who was always at the house with Mandy.”

“Ah shit, not fucking Raggedy Andy? Fuck, how’s Mandy taking it?”

“She’s pretty messed up right now. You know, we’re just waiting to hear something but no one seems to know shit.”

They stayed quiet for a minute. Mickey let his brother soak in what he’d said and weighed out how much was really necessary to tell, and why? The Why was easy – eventually, his brother would have to know the truth, but Mickey still wasn’t convinced it was time.

“So, you and Ian, huh?” Colin asked.

“Huh?” Mickey looked up quickly, the truth flooding his face a shade of pink that he couldn’t hide, but before he realized Colin was asking something entirely different, Mickey’s surprised reaction had given up more than he’d intended.

“I just mean… You and Ian… are friends, huh? I always thought he was just Mandy’s little twinky.” Colin’s eyes stayed glued to Mickey, and Mickey couldn’t look away. He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, he bit at his bottom lip, a sure sign of stress, and blinked two or three times while he tried to find the words. He cleared his throat, more than once. He took a step or two away from the car, rubbing his knuckles nervously.

“Uhm.. uh… well, yeah… Uhm… Me and Ian.” He looked over his shoulder, then turned to face Colin, trying to slow his heart from beating through his chest, his brother’s stare burning a hole through his own skull. 

“Mick.” Colin stood up from the trunk of the car, and Mickey stepped back reflexively and looked away. “Mickey?” Mickey looked back at him, dead in the eye this time. “You ain’t fucking telling me shit… I don’t already know.”

What did that mean, Mickey wondered? How much did Colin know, and from whom, and since when?? All questions Mickey would kick someone’s ass over at some point, but at that very moment his brother was waiting on answers and Mickey wasn’t sure which answers to give. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He said, his bravado seeping in again as if he was ready to defend a lie.

“That means whatever the fuck you want it to mean. But let’s get something clear first – I’m not fucking Terry. I might not agree with a lot of shit you and Iggy and Mandy do with your life, but who the fuck am I to judge, right? I’m a fucking dope dealer, and I ain’t throwing rocks at no one’s fucking glasshouses. So, say whatever the fuck it is you need to say right now or don’t. I don’t give a shit. Just know that we ain’t got secrets between us, Mickey.”

Mickey took another deep breath and let it out slowly as he assessed what Colin had said. 

“Yeah.” He paused, then surprised even himself when he said, “Me and Ian.” He looked away but quickly looked back at Colin, ready to stand his ground and own whatever the fuck it was he was supposed to be owning within that statement. Then he repeated a bit more quietly. “Me and Ian, for a long time now.”

Colin didn’t say anything. He looked away and nodded. “Am I the last one to know this?” 

“Nah… I mean, I don’t know. It’s not like I go around announcing this shit – not looking to get fucking killed, you know? I think Iggy might know. And Mandy, and Svet. And I’m pretty sure every one of the fucking Gallaghers knows,” he rambled nervously, “and, fuck… ok, maybe you’re the last one, but I wasn’t trying to –“

“Mickey! Shut the fuck up. I got it.” Colin stepped forward, pulling him up into a hug. “Fuck.” He patted his brother’s back, hard, purposely making Mickey wince a bit. “I mean, FUCK! Like I said, I’m pretty fucking sure I knew this for a long time, you know… but… fuck.”

That hug was better than drugs. Having his brother hold Mickey tight and say it was ok was more relief than any drug could have given him at that moment. Mickey swallowed hard, determined not to be some soft fucking pussy and tear up again, but Colin wasn’t making it easy on him. 

“Come on. Let’s get you home. You can tell me what the fuck’s going on with Gallagher on the way.” Once they were on the road again, Colin smirked then quietly asked, "Gay, huh?"

"Fuck you, asshole!" Mickey kept his eyes out the window, holding back a grin.

\---------------

Mickey and Colin pulled up to the Gallagher house at exactly the same time as Mandy. All three of them eyed the suspicious SUV parked out front, a bit too new and shiny to be parked on that street, then climbed the steps and walked into the house without knocking. The Gallaghers were gathered around the kitchen table with two men in uniform, all of them looking uncomfortably anxious.

Mickey glanced around, nodding his head toward the military men, a silent question to Lip: “What the fuck is going on here?” He grabbed two beers from the fridge for him and Colin, as Lip made the introductions.

“Uh, Lieutenant Wakefield – This is Mandy, Ian’s best friend, and her brothers, Mickey and Colin.” The lieutenant stood to shake their hands, but Mickey walked away and took a seat at the back steps that led to the second floor.

“You’ll excuse my brother,” Colin said, frowning at Mickey, as he shook the Lieutenant’s hand. “We’re all a little upset about this right now.”

“Enough with the introductions. Did you assholes find him or not?” Mickey interrupted. “It’s been two god damned days, and you got a shit load of marines out there. Is anyone even looking for him?”

“Mickey,” Fiona replied calmly, “The Lieutenant had just told us that Ian and his partner, Matthew Johnson? Is that his name? Ian and Matthew were located about 2 hours ago. We’re just waiting now to hear if there’s been any progress. We’re all doing our best to be patient, you know?”

Mickey shook his head at the condescending tone she’d taken with him then just took a drink of his beer to keep from telling her to fuck off.

“We deployed a team at 13:45 central time. It’s a tricky mission because your brother, and uh, friend, is located inside a heavily guarded area, so going in under the cloak of night is to our advantage. We hope to complete this mission with as few casualties as possible.”

“Whoa, what’s that mean? You saying Ian might be killed??” Mickey blurted out, jumping to his feet.

“Well, we’re not sure of SPC Gallagher’s current condition. We only received word that they had been located, and we’re assuming both he and his partner are alive at this time.”

“His name is fucking Ian! Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Mickey, come on. Let’s take a walk.” Colin cut in before Mickey could say more. He turned to Lip, “We’ll be outside. Come grab us if you hear anything.”

As they walked out the front door, Fiona was explaining to Mandy that they might be waiting hours before they knew more.

“Col, you don’t need to fucking babysit me, ok? I’m good.” He protested once they reached the front porch.

“I’m not babysitting, man. I’m just as worried about Raggedy Andy as you are. Stupid fuck is a good kid, you know? Shit, I watched him grow up… watched all of you grow up. Weird to think he’s old enough to be in a fucking war.”

Mickey scrubbed his hands over his face, then gratefully took the cigarette his brother offered him. A minute later Lip came out the door and headed down the steps.

“Where are you going?” Mickey asked, wondering how Lip could leave at a time like this.

“Gonna go grab some food. These guys are sticking around until we get some news tonight. Might be a while.” Lip answered.

“You stay. I’ll go.” Colin patted his brother on the back, then headed for the car. “I’ll be back in a few.”


	53. Chapter 53

It was more than a few hours of waiting. Hours ticked by as the Gallaghers and Milkovichs waited on word from overseas. Each time the lieutenant’s phone rang, everyone jumped. Colin left around seven, and the younger Gallaghers wandered away before the wait was over, but Lip, Fiona, Mickey, and Mandy stayed right where they were. They were a little less tense, drinking beers as they waited, swapping Ian stories and laughing as they waited for the call to say Ian was coming home, alive. When the hour got closer to midnight, Mickey’s laughter turned to a quiet fear again. He silently slipped out in the middle of another story to the back steps for a smoke where he could still hear everyone laughing at the kitchen table when Lip was done talking.

“So, Mandy. How did you and Ian meet?” the Sergeant asked.

Mandy dove into her a series of short memories of Ian as a young boy, slowly graduating to the present day, making the Sergeant and Lieutenant laugh at so many of the criminal acts she and her best friend had gotten up to as youth. She saved her biggest Ian-Is-A-Shitty-Friend anecdote for last, “I don’t think I ever wanted to kick his ass as much as the day I found out about him and Mickey dating though! I swear to god, when I saw him kissing my brother, I about shit my pants!” she said, laughing, but she hadn’t noticed how silent everyone else had become when she said it. Before she realized she’d just outed Ian in front of two military men, the Lieutenant’s phone rang.

“Lieutenant Wakefield. Any news?”

\---------------

It took a week for the Army to bring Ian home. Once he and Johnson were located and successfully recovered, he was helo’d to a trauma hospital near Leatherneck where he underwent surgery for the damage done to his leg and to extract the shrapnel in his arm and shoulder. He arrived at the hospital in critical condition, both legs braced and bandaged and the dressing on his arm beginning to show signs of infection. He was weak, but nearly pain-free thanks to the strong drugs he’d been given; If not for his Afghan host, he might not have made it as long as he had. All the details of his well-being were shared with the Gallaghers, Mickey, and Mandy as they became available, and while the Sergeant who was acting as liaison hadn’t made any promises, he was optimistic each time he delivered news, which put Mickey more at ease. 

Six days after Ian had been rescued, Lip called at his usual time with the morning report, only this time to tell Mickey that Ian was coming home. The military was flying him into the Walter Reed Medical Center for rehabilitation. 

“So, does that mean they’re going to fix him? Get him to walk again? Fucking crawl? Dipshit and Dooey said his legs are all fucked up, so what are they rehabilitating exactly?”

Dipshit and Dooey, aka Lieutenant Wakefield and Sergeant Brogan, had indeed reported Ian had suffered severe damage to both legs, however, they hadn’t gone beyond that, leaving it to the doctors to speak directly with the Gallagher’s themselves once Ian was back on U.S. soil.

“All good questions, Mickey – that we all want answers to, but I don’t have them. They said he’ll be getting there sometime around 2 in the morning, so I’m getting a flight out this afternoon, and I can let you know more as soon as I talk to the docs.” Lip waited for a barrage of questions or curses but got nothing. “Mickey? You still there?”

“Yeah.” He hated not being a Gallagher at that moment. He knew that in Ian’s condition, only immediate family that would be allowed to see him. “Listen, fucking Facetime us or whatever as soon as you see him, understand? I’m not asking. Mandy’s fucking worried as shit.”

“Will do.”

The rest of the day went by as usual – Mickey checked for new texts or missed calls a dozen times before he left work, and talked himself out of calling one of the Gallaghers for more information a dozen more times. When he got home, Mandy was waiting on him impatiently.

“The fuck have you been? We’re gonna be late. Let’s go.” She ordered. “Is that what you’re wearing? Jesus, never mind, let’s go!”

“Wha – Yo, Mandy! Where the fuck are we going?” He called, following behind her.

“Closing, you idiot! We need to sign the house papers in half an hour! I reminded you two days ago.”

“Ah fuck, I forgot!”

He raced through the end of rush hour traffic and arrived almost fifteen minutes late, but still in time to sign before the lawyer’s office closed for the day. After all the “I’s” were dotted and “T’s” crossed, the title rep handed him a cashier’s check for just over $45,000, after all their fees, back taxes, and other debts that Terry left them. His lawyer gave a shrug of his shoulders as if apologizing for the small profit, but it was the most money either Mickey or Mandy had ever held in their life. Split five ways, they would each be getting nine grand, which was more than any of them had ever expected to get from their dear old dad, recently departed, out of life.

All the way home, Mickey thought of all that money could do for him and his family, to start over, start fresh. It would give him the upper hand in finding a decent house, with hot water and clean carpets. It could pay for another used car for Svetlana, which would make Mickey’s life exponentially better all around. There were so many ways he could use it, but all he could wonder was what the cost of an airline ticket would be to Maryland.

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?” Mandy interrupted his thoughts.

“Huh?”

“I said, I know we haven’t talked about it, but maybe we should. I mean, I have enough money to get my own place and all, but it’s not gonna last long, and I thought maybe if you and Svet were up to it, then the three of us – “

“Four. Fucking Nika.” He reminded her.

“FOUR of us could get a place. I mean, I’d totally pay my share, you know? Mickey?!”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Whatever.” He merged into highway traffic, only half hearing anything she said and not caring one bit what he’d agreed to. As soon as she’d mentioned getting a new place, his mind immediately went to needing to find a place bit enough for Ian to come home to.

“OK, shithead. I know you’re not listening to me, but I’m holding you to this when we start looking so don’t forget it.” 

He was looking in his side mirror to change lanes and didn’t bother to answer her – the house would need to be a ranch-style or at least a 2-story with a bedroom and bath on the main floor. And, he thought, it would need a lot of space, in case Ian was in a wheelchair for very long – Mickey’s stomach fell at the thought of Ian being in a wheelchair at all. And a no steps to the door, or a ramp. Fuck! He knew he was going to have to call Colin… there was no way, even with Mandy paying her share, that Mickey would be able to afford the kind of place he was thinking of without getting back in the game. It had to be done.

Mickey didn’t know how she managed, but Mandy was fast asleep at 2 a.m. He, on the other hand, was wide awake and pacing his bedroom floor waiting on Lip’s call. It had been five hours since the last text with the same infuriating response: No news yet. By 3:15 Mickey’s head was beginning to swim as he sat against the wall on the floor. By 4 he was fast asleep, sitting up at an awkward angle with his neck sharply turned back so that the crown of his head rested flush with the wall. He was sure to wake with an aching back and neck. He was sound asleep like that for two hours when Mandy came into the room, tapping on the door.

She knelt to gently shake his shoulder when he didn’t answer, “Mickey. Wake up.”

He jerked to, startled and swinging his arms to push her away, then grabbed for his phone. “Fuck! Did I miss the call?” There were no missed calls. No texts. It was almost 6:30 in the morning, and Lip hadn’t contacted him. He began to dial Lip when Mandy put her hand over his phone and stopped him.

“Mickey, Lip already called. He said Ian got there ok. He hasn’t seen him yet, but he heard they were getting a room situated for him and it might be a few hours.” 

Mickey rubbed his eyes and cracked his neck, nodding at what she was saying. 

“Mickey.” She waited for him to look at her before continuing. “He doesn’t want to see you.”

“Huh? The fuck does that mean? Who doesn’t want to see me? Lip?”

She looked at him sympathetically and waited for him to catch up.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Why wouldn’t he want to see me?” Mickey rolled forward to stand, stretching out his sore limbs and wincing.

“Not Lip. Ian. He hasn’t seen Ian yet, but they let Ian call him to talk. He said Ian sounded great, all things considered. A little drugged up and tired, but still himself, you know? But … He said he didn’t want to see you. Not now. Not… not ever, Mickey.”

He felt dizzy. He felt sick like he might vomit. “No,” he said quietly. “No, that’s not … that can’t be right. I know how he fucking feels about me. Fucking Philip is a lying fucking asshole. If he thinks he can get between me and Ian, I’ll cut his fuckin-“

“Mickey! Stop. Just stop.” She said gently. He ran his hands down his face and tried to clear his head, “Mickey… you ok?”

“He’s fucking wrong, Mandy!” Mickey started searching for a shirt and socks, then pushed her out of his way as he left. He knew Ian would never say that. Not in a million years. Not after everything he’d written in his letters. Mickey knew there was no way in hell Ian wouldn’t want to see him, and there was only one way to prove Lip wrong. He stopped and knocked on Svetlana’s bedroom door before leaving, then said quietly through the door, “Svet. I’m going to Maryland. Call my job, would you?”

Mickey took the L to Chicago O’Hare, searching airline tickets on his phone as he went. Aside from the jacket he was wearing, he’d only taken the time to grab a change of clothes, which he stuffed into a plastic grocery bag, and his wallet on the way out the door. He yelled at Mandy as he ran out, reminding her to deposit his share of the sale proceeds as soon as the bank opened. He barely had enough in his account to buy an overpriced one-way ticket to Washington D.C. on the only seat he could find flying out in just two hours, with a little left to rent a cheap car or pay for a taxi. That was all he needed – just enough to get to Ian. The rest he could figure out later. 

Once he made it to his gate, he typed out a text to Lip: I’ll be there before noon.

Mickey re-read it before hitting send, then deleted it. He wasn’t in the mood to defend his decision, because fuck anyone who tried to tell him he wasn’t allowed to see Ian again, and he sure as shit wasn’t in the mood for Lip’s holier than thou condescending attitude. The last thing Mickey wanted was to spend the next 3 hours pissed off at Lip while he traveled in some strange city. The time for punching Lip for saying stupid shit would no doubt come, but Mickey knew that wasn’t the day for it. Instead, he decided to save his phone battery, since he’d forgotten a charger, and he turned his phone off to avoid any temptation to call or text.

The next few hours dragged by. Mickey arrived in D.C. at the height of lunch hour, without a reservation for a car or any idea how the public transit system worked there. After two arguments and a brief break to remind himself he had no money for bail if he killed someone, Mickey finally found an information booth in the airport with the train and bus schedules he needed. He arrived, plastic bag in hand, a little after 2 in the afternoon. When he got off the elevator on the 4th floor ICU, Lip was sitting in a chair waiting.

Mickey tossed his bag of clothes onto a seat beside Lip and nodded. 

“Mandy called. Said you were on your way. I’ve been sitting here waiting for about an hour, figured you would be coming soon.”

Mickey didn’t say anything. He bit his lip, looked down the hall toward the security doors, then back at Lip and waited for the argument to come.

“You ready to go in?” Lip asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Mickey answered quietly, surprised that Lip wasn’t going to fight him. “Will they let me in?”

“It’s supposed to be just immediate family, but they didn’t check my ID or anything, so if anyone asks, you’re Carl Gallagher now, got it?” He got up and led Mickey to the doors, the pressed the button to call the nurse's desk. A few seconds later it buzzed. Both men walked through, but Lip stopped as the doors closed behind them. “Listen, I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since last night, so I’m gonna give you two some time, ok? His room is down the hall, room 4-237 on the left. And Mickey… try not to get him upset, ok? I mean, he seems like he’s fine and all, but I think he’s barely holding it together, you know?”

Mickey nodded and Lip turned and left him standing alone. He rubbed his hands through his hair, then decided to duck into a hall bathroom before going to the room, where he splashed some water over his face and tried to tame his hair which was sticking straight up in the back like Alfalfa, “that explains all the fucking crazy looks everyone was giving me,” he chuckled as he pressed it down into place. He sniffed under his arms and regretted not taking the time to shower before he left, but only briefly. A shower and deodorant would wait – Ian wouldn’t need to. He headed out the door for his room.


	54. Chapter 54

The sterile stench of hospital mixed with beeping monitors filled the long hallway which seemed to go on forever. 4-208… 4-210… 4-212, then a turn to the left, and the numbers immediate jumped to 4-235, because fuck continuity, right? Mickey stopped right outside of Ian’s room. The curtain near the door was drawn so the only thing he could see was a partial view of the closed blinds on the exterior window, and the door to the bathroom. The constant beeping of machines was loud and frightening. Lip hadn’t given him an idea of what was behind the curtain, or what condition Ian might be in, but Mickey knew from all that Sergeant Brogan had told them that Ian was likely bandaged from head to toe. Mickey took a deep breath and went in, setting his bag on a chair near the door, then peeking his head around the curtain slowly to make sure he had the right room.

Ian was there, sound asleep, with one leg slung up in the air, the other laying on the bed, both cast to the top of his thighs. His ribs were wrapped in bandages and one arm was also in a cast. The bruises on his face and neck were green and yellow, in their last stages of healing, with a few small cuts that all looked like they would heal without scars. All in all, he looked much better than Mickey had expected. Ian’s red hair stuck up on the back of his head exactly the same way Mickey’s had prior to his bathroom visit, which made Mickey chuckle. 

“Jesus Christ, Ian.” He said quietly. 

Mickey carefully put his hand on Ian’s cast leg, careful not to nudge him, then looked at all the machines he was hooked up to – IV’s, heart monitors, oxygen monitors, a piss bag – nothing too scary, he thought. He walked around the other side and pulled the free chair up to sit beside Ian, doing his best not to wake him, then read the nurses board on the wall – most of the information there was gibberish to him, but he could see Ian was eating by mouth (that’s good), and his pain level was a circled sad face with no tears (not good, Mickey thought, but better than the teary face or the blustering manic face at the farthest end). Mickey decided it probably put him at a 7/10 for pain, considering the number of remaining emoji faces on the chart. 

Ian stirred in the bed and Mickey’s heart jumped. His flight instinct told him to hide before Ian saw him, but that quickly passed. Instead, he slipped his fingers around Ian’s good hand, biting at his lip nervously as he waited for Ian to wake. 

“You must be his brother, Carl? Philip told us you’d be coming today.” The nurse said as she walked into the room, making Mickey jerk his hand back. She added the name Carl to the family names on the whiteboard.

“Uh, yeah. Carl.” He said quietly.

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about him waking up. He was having a rough time, so I gave him something to help him sleep, and upped his morphine drip. He’ll probably be out a couple hours in case you wanted to take a break and get something to eat. Or you can order in. The hospital allows for two family dinners if you order before 6 tonight. Just give them the room number when you call. Menu’s by the window.” She said as she switched out IV bags and updated Ian’s stats on the whiteboard.  
“Can you tell me what's going on with him? Is he gonna get better, walk again?”

The nurse glanced back at the clock above Mickey’s head and made her last notes on her chart, then looked at him. “Actually, I don’t know a whole lot. I just came on shift from my weekend, but I can send the other shift nurse in if you’d like. He's been here all day. Best bet is to talk to the Doc when she makes her rounds again, but that won’t be until this evening.” She glanced at the chart hanging on the bottom of Ian’s bed, “From his chart, I can tell you he had a few serious breaks in both legs,” she looked at both cast legs and nodded as if that news was obvious, “And a broken collar bone. He had a bullet removed from his shoulder. Boy, your brother really got himself into a hornet’s nest, didn’t he? Now, you’ll have to get the details from the Doc, but from what I can see, I think he’s gonna be ok.” She said, trying to reassure Mickey. “Heck, still has all his parts, and that right there is a great starting point.”

She smiled, hoping to lift the gloom and doom of it all, but from Mickey’s expression, she could tell it hadn’t helped. 

“Mr. Gallagher,” she added softly, “it’s been my experience that every person who comes through here really needs just two things to make their situation better: A loving support system, and the belief that they are going to be ok, no matter the circumstances. If you can help your brother with those two things, then the rest will take care of itself one way or the other." She turned to leave, "Don’t forget, the dinner menu is by the window.”

Mickey sat back in his chair surrendering to the exhaustion that washed over him. He grabbed a folded blanket from the vinyl couch against the wall and wrapped it around his shoulders, then laid his head down on the bed next to Ian. He fell into a deep, dreamless sleep for almost two hours, missing Lip when he returned from lunch and the next round from the nurse. The sunlight in the room was already beginning to dim when the gentle touch of Ian’s thumb running along his cheek woke him.

Mickey opened his eyes slowly, expecting to see Ian sitting up and awake, but his hand seemed to be the only thing conscious. Ian’s eyes were closed and his mouth slightly bent in a smile as he slept on. Mickey put his hand over Ian’s, moving his fingers in unison, then brought them to his lips and kissed.

“Mickey. It’s good to see you again. Philip mentioned you might be coming but he didn’t say you had arrived.” Lieutenant Wakefield was at the door. Mickey sat up straight and dropped Ian’s hand quickly, but their connection hadn't been lost on the lieutenant. He was holding what looked and smelled like delicious greasy hamburgers, making Mickey’s stomach grumble. “I brought some burgers and fries – wasn’t sure who would be here. Hungry?”

Mickey made fast work of 3 burgers as the Lieutenant rambled on about how nice it was to be home, not that Chicago wasn’t nice, but he was usually on the road traveling so much he didn’t often get back to D.C. to see his family. As liaison to Ian’s case, he was assigned to go where Ian went until he’d been relieved from duty. 

“Does that mean he’s getting out of the Army?” Mickey asked. 

“No, not necessarily, but in situations like this we take it one day at a time to see if he’ll be able to continue his service in some compacity.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? He almost fucking died out there!” the lieutenant held his hand up, remind Mickey to lower his voice. “How the fuck do you expect him to continue his service?”

“I’ve served 18 years since my first injury. I’ve had quite a few since then too, but that first one was a doozy.” He lifted his left pant leg to show Mickey a prosthetic limb. “Got this back in 1998. I was out of commission for 8 months while I learned to walk again, then run. And eventually, fight again. Once I was able to continue my service, I came back. I’ve deployed 9 times since then to active warzones. Of course, these days my wife is just anxious for me to hit that 20-year mark so I can finally go home and take care of that honey-do list she’s been making for me.”

“You went to war like that?” Mickey had never noticed so much as a limp in the lieutenant, and suddenly had a lot more respect for the old man. 

“I did, indeed. Did quite a few foot patrols on 5 of them. Then I ranked up and the rest of my tours were a bit easier, but still out there in the desert with the rest of our men and women.”

Mickey pushed his food away, “I don’t care if he can run a fucking marathon. I don’t want him going back there. Look at him! No one deserves this shit.”

The lieutenant nodded. His own family had felt the same as Mickey, but in the end, it had been his choice alone to make, just as it would be Ian’s if that time ever came.

“Listen, I should get out of here. Promised the wife I was just making a quick stop but it doesn’t look like he’s waking up any time soon so I’ll stop by again in the morning.” He reached to shake Mickey’s hand, then added. “I know how you’re feeling. My family felt the same way, and I was scared – but mostly I was afraid of never walking again. Ian needs a reason to get better. I’m just saying that was my reason.”

The lieutenant passed the shift nurse on the way out the door. She moved with a purpose but reminded Mickey that the clock was ticking on his dinner order. “I see the lieutenant brought some burgers, but you could order some drinks or dessert for later. If you’re spending the night, the couch pulls out into a bed.” Ian stirred in the bed as she made no attempt to stay quiet, and Mickey instinctively reached for his hand again. The nurse eyed him suspiciously but he didn’t give a single fuck anymore.

“I can’t believe he’s still sleeping. Must have been some ride home, poor guy.” She started raising the back of Ian’s bed. “Ian… time to wake up. Come on, Ian. You have a visitor.” She said coaxing Ian from his fugue state.

Mickey was anxious for Ian to see he was there. He would always be there. 

Ian blinked slowly, nodding, “I’m awake –“ He squeezed his fingers around the hand that was holding his own and chuckled, expecting that his brother had turned sentimental on him. When he looked over, it wasn’t Lip he saw.

“Mickey?” Mickey was teary-eyed but smiling. Ian pulled his hand away then looked at his nurse, “What is he doing here? Why is he here?”


	55. Chapter 55

“It’s your brother, Carl. Do you recognize Carl, Ian?” the nurse looked at Mickey apologetically, “The morphine probably has him confused.” She said, knowing full well the man standing in front of her wasn’t Ian’s brother. 

Ian looked from the nurse to Mickey, but before he could protest further, Mickey nodded, “I’ll wait out here while you do whatever you need to do.” He reached for Ian’s hand one more time, but Ian repelled. “Yeah, ok.”

He stood outside Ian’s door, trying to hear if his cover was completely fucked, but Ian didn’t say anything more about him. The nurse was asking Ian if he could tell her his full name, birthday, father’s name, and all the other routine questions, but she never asked about Carl or Mickey. She stayed with Ian another ten minutes, checking the dressings on his wounds and switching out the right leg for the left in the harness above his bed. She helped him place a dinner order, making sure to add a few extra drinks and Jell-O cups for Carl/Mickey. When everything on his stats board was updated, she left, pulling his door closed behind her. She nearly tripped over Mickey sitting on the floor outside the door.

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

Mickey wiped at his eyes quickly, averting his face as he stood up. He looked down at the floor, nodding and biting his lip nervously, then just decided ‘fuck it,’ and faced her. He was obviously upset, “I should probably go.”

“There’s a waiting room around the corner if you’d like to take a few minutes.” She offered, “I ordered you a coffee and some juices. I wasn’t sure what you drank, but there’s also a vending machine down the hall if you want something different.” Mickey was looking past her, toward the exit. “Mr.… uh, Gallagher… These can be really difficult times, and it’s not unusual for a patient not to want their loved ones to see them in such a vulnerable state, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they want them to leave. Why don’t you get something to drink, and check back in a little while? Ian just woke up, and the meds, you know – He needs people here with him.” She squeezed his arm gently before leaving him alone in the hall.

Instead of heading toward the waiting room, Mickey took his seat on the floor again where he could stay close to Ian. He reached up and turned the handle on the door, cracking it just a few inches and listening as Ian flipped through TV channels. Remembering his depleted bank account, he sent a text to Mandy: Did you deposit that money?

Several minutes passed before she replied: Yes and No. I didn’t get it to the bank until after work, so it won’t show in your account until tomorrow. Sorry.

Fuck. He sent another text to Svetlana: Call my job in the morning and tell them I’m still sick.

Svetlana: You have flu, with shit from both ass and stomach. Your boss was happy you didn’t go to work. When will you be back?

Mickey: Soon. Maybe tomorrow night.

Sooner if Mandy had just put his fucking money in the bank like he’d asked her to, he thought. 

When the food cart rolled up to the room, Mickey got up and followed the orderly into the room. Ian’s almost friendly face to the orderly immediately melted away when he saw Mickey, but it didn’t matter – Mickey gave him an equally icy look in return. Neither of them said anything. The orderly helped Ian adjust his bed and pillows, then rolled the dinner tray in front of him. 

“You need me to get a nurse to help you with this?” He asked Ian.

“No. He’s got me.” Mickey answered, dismissing the help. He walked up and began uncovering the dishes on the tray, throwing the covers angrily onto the chair beside him. Ian tried opening a juice, but couldn’t get the foil topper off with one hand in the cast. “Just… fucking stop and let me do this!” Mickey barked. Ian tossed the juice onto the tray hard enough to knock another drink off, earning a deadly ‘don’t fuck with me’ look from Mickey.

“There,” Mickey said, gathering up the discarded wrappers and walking them to the trash. 

When he turned Ian was staring at his dish, his jaws clenched with his fuck-you-stubborn-chin hard in place. At last, he reached for the fork, but again, his limited mobility meant picking up the entire chicken breast at one time or looking like a fucking idiot trying to cut it with one working hand. His chest rose and fell heavily until he finally surrendered.  
“Can you cut it for me?”

Mickey returned, yanking the fork from his hand. “Where the fuck did you put the knife?” They both looked around for the steak knife that had been delivered, and at last Mickey spied the handle tucked between the folds of Ian’s blanket. He reached for it and Ian winced as if he expected some other kind of contact. “You’re a real fucking asshole for a bitch who can’t cut his own meat,” Mickey said, holding the knife out threateningly. 

He cut Ian's food into tiny bite-sized pieces out of spite. Asshole would have to work hard to get every bite. When he was done, he spun the fork by its handle and handed it back to Ian. "Your fork, princess." Then he took both Jell-o cups, all three of the juices and the coffee, leaving Ian with just water.

"Hey!"

"Fuck you. These are mine. You want 'em, come and get 'em." He wiggled his brows, taunting Ian from several feet away. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Eat your fucking baby food."

They both turned their attention to the TV which had somehow landed on a sports channel.

"The fuck are we watching?"

Before Ian could put his fork down and claim the remote, Mickey grabbed it. He flipped Ian off, laughing, then waved the remote in the air, "Come on, asshole. Here... take it." Just to fuck with him a bit more, Mickey tucked the remote down the front of his pants, "There you go... come get it with your fucking mouth."

Ian thew his dinner fork straight at Mickey, who ducked just before it hit his head, "Fuck you, Mickey! I didn't ask you to come!"

"No, you fucking didn't, bitch, but I'm here now so get the fuck over it." Mickey picked the fork up and took it to the bathroom to rinse it off. When he came back, he tossed it onto the bed just far enough that Ian had to struggle to grab it. "You're welcome. Now, let's see what's on -"

He flipped through channel, landing on a station every few seconds to watch. If it looked like something Ian was interested in, Mickey changed it immediately. Finally, he stopped on a Steven Segal movie, "Fuck yes!"

"No! No fucking Segal movies! Are you kidding me? Come on, Mickey!"

"Carl." Mickey kicked his legs up on Ian's bed and began opening up a Jell-o cup.

"What?" Ian asked.

"My name is Carl." he pointed to the nurse's white board on the wall. "And we're watching it." He slurped the Jell-o from teh cup, not bothering with a spoon. "It's fucking _Under Siege!_ It's a classic military movie - what's not to love, Army?"

Ian went back to eating his dinner, throwing deadly glares in Mickey’s direction every few seconds, but Mickey was completely ignoring him. When Ian tried to remove the foil from his water cup, Mickey’s attention immediately returned. He grabbed the cup, peeled the wrapper, then carefully handed it back to Ian – then went back to his movie as if Ian wasn’t in the room at all. That’s how the rest of the night went. If Ian reached for anything, Mickey was there to get it for him. If Ian tried to adjust a pillow, Mickey jumped to fluff them up and tuck them in any way Ian wanted them. When sleep began to overtake Ian again, Mickey put his bed back down and lowered the lights in the room – but they never spoke. Mickey watched his movie and Ian stayed quiet. 

When the movie ended, Mickey gathered up his empty containers and tossed them into the trash, then opened the last Jell-O and placed it in front of Ian with the unused spoon.

“I’m going to bed.” He said, handing the tv remote back to Ian. He pulled the couch out and threw a blanket over the top, then made a quick trip to the bathroom. 

Ian laid in his bed watching commercials as if they were the most interesting show on TV until Mickey was tucked under the blankets facing the wall. Then, at last, he looked at his boyfriend on the couch, fighting down fear and tears, and allowed himself to mourn the loss of their relationship. Tonight or tomorrow, Ian knew it was inevitable, no matter how stubborn Mickey wanted to play it.


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=A5BQ-mV8j00&feature=share

Mickey woke at 2:30 during the nurse’s rounds. He pretended to be sleeping, waiting for her to finish her work, then pulled his phone out once she was gone. His battery was down to just 20%. First, he dialed his automated bank to make sure the deposit had hit his account at midnight, then he got online to search for a ticket back to Chicago hopefully for the following night or day, but the only ticket he found for that day was leaving at 6:15 in the morning, and was going to cost almost a full paycheck.

Mickey hesitated, checked the next day's flights, but prices were even higher since it was going into the end of the week. A battery warning popped up on his phone, so he returned to the 6:15 flight and bought his ticket. If he left soon, he’d be able to make the flight. He pushed his blanket and pillow into a pile and slipped his shoes on, then sat quietly in the dark watching Ian sleep, debating whether or not he should wake him. He imagined a scenario where he told Ian he was leaving, but Ian pleaded with him to stay. Mickey ran his hands across his tired eyes and sighed. He knew that wasn’t what would happen if he woke Ian. Ian wanted him gone. It felt heavy on Mickey’s heart, but he wasn’t there to cause Ian more stress so there were no other options.

He shook away the disappointment and pain, then grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, but remembered one last thing before he left. He turned and grabbed one of the nurse’s markers from the whiteboard and went back to Ian. Taking care not to wake him, he pulled the blanket back and wrote on both of Ian’s leg casts, then his arm. Once satisfied with what he had written, he tossed the marker back toward the metal ledge of the board, missing and not caring about the noise it made as it hit the floor. Then he walked out the door and went home.

\----- 

Ian woke the next morning, feeling more himself. He had watched Mickey sleep late into the night and had gone through so many emotions over him being there. Sometimes there was grief knowing he was losing Mickey, followed by anger because Mickey should never have gone to the hospital in the first place. As the night wore on Ian just settled on gratitude that Mickey was there, taking care of him, even when Ian had been a total ass earlier. 

He turned his head expecting to see Mickey asleep on the couch, but instead saw Lip, quietly reading The Washington Post and sipping coffee. Mickey was gone.

“Where’s Mickey?” Ian asked. Mickey’s shoes and jacket were gone, but he might have just gone out for a smoke. Ian looked to the chair nearest the door, and Mickey’s plastic grocery bag of clothes was gone too.

“Don’t know. He wasn’t here when I got here. Maybe he went for breakfast.”

Ian winced as he tried to roll his body to the side. Lip glanced over but didn’t offer help. Ian reached his one good arm up and tried to rearrange his pillows for support behind his back. Lip was back to reading his paper and absently said, “Got it?” When Ian didn’t answer, Lip assumed all was good. “When was the last time you had a shower? Can you even take a shower, with those things on your legs?” 

For the first time, Ian looked down and noticed the blue marker peeking out from under the cover. He caught a glance of his arm cast as well, where Mickey had simply written “6. But this ain’t one of them.” He uncovered his legs and found the numbers 1 and 7 written respectively on each of his thighs in big, bold, blue print. He didn’t want to smile, but he couldn’t help himself. His face lit up from ear to ear.

“What’s that mean?” Lip asked, looking at the numbers on Ian’s legs.

Ian shook his head and lied, “I dunno.” He would wait for Mickey to come back to ask what the ‘6’ meant, but he already knew what the 17 meant: For better or worse. 

A new nurse came. The doctor came. They rolled Ian out of the room for a series of tests, then rolled him back in time for the orderly who delivered his breakfast, and before long, the nurse came again. Lip had fallen asleep on the couch, and Ian was left waiting, hour after hour, for Mickey to return, but he never did. Ian waited the entire day, silently hoping Mickey would come through the door – maybe he’d gone to a hotel, showered, got some real sleep, and would walk in any minute with a bag of greasy fast food, holding it just out of Ian’s reach… but Ian knew that wasn’t going to happen. By mid-afternoon he was positive, Mickey was just gone – no phone call. No goodbye. And even though Ian had practically pushed him out the door, all he could think was ‘he left me.’

\------ 

Mickey gave Ian all the privacy and space he could hope for once he returned to Chicago. There would be time later to wade through whatever psychological bullshit Ian brought home, but they weren’t there yet. In the meantime, Mickey needed to take care of business so he would be ready when Ian came home. Mandy kept him updated on everything he needed to know about Ian’s progress, and made it a point to let Ian know that Mickey knew everything that was going on. 

Lip only stayed another two days, and then it was up to Ian to get through this on his own out there. There were still numerous surgeries to come, inserting pins and plates where bones and joints had been damaged, endless psychiatric tests and sessions, debriefings his Sr. Officers of the incident itself, and countless hours of physical therapy. It took everything in Mickey not to spend every penny he had flying between Chicago and Maryland every day just to be with Ian, or to call every hour for an update, but as the days went by with no effort from Ian to reach out, Mickey found it easier and easier to do the same. He and Svetlana sat down, wrote out a budget, then he called Colin so he could make some extra cash as quickly as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=X9cBifpETO8&feature=share


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=050-DOpnVls

Mickey was gone. Lip was gone. The only connection Ian had left to his family was the prepaid cell phone Lip had left with him. During the hours Ian wasn’t being poked or prodded or questioned, he spent typing in Mickey’s phone number and holding his finger over the call button. He never did though. Instead, he’d call his brothers or one of his sisters, but now that the initial excitement of him being MIA had passed, it was getting harder and harder to keep them on the phone for more than five minutes. Late at night, when everything in the hospital had finally quieted down, Ian would call Mandy. Sometimes they talked for ten minutes, just to check in, depending on how tired she sounded. Other times they talked for more than an hour. He was thankful that Mandy never made him beg for information – he simply asked how everyone was doing, and she went down the list: 

“Svet found a house, but Colin thinks it’s better if we look for some shitty foreclosed property to buy instead. We’d have 30 years to fix it up, so I guess it makes sense. Yevy bit the neighbor’s kid, but that little shit had it coming. Lip has a new girlfriend but still calls every other day to see if I want to get back together, or just fuck for fun – asshole. Mickey’s working for Colin again, but just evenings and weekends. He kept his day job. I guess he’s trying to buy Svet some mom car, getting all domestic and shit lately.” 

Ian covered his eyes and took a deep gulping breath in at the sound of Mickey moving on, and trying to be domestic with Svetlana. He wanted to ask Mandy what it meant, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. He had wanted Mickey to find someone better – someone not broken – and it only made sense that Svetlana might end up being his person. 

“So, Nika’s gone then, huh?” Ian asked, but Mandy surprised him.

“Fuck no. Her and Svet started their citizenship classes, so she’s always around with her damn books thrown everywhere. I swear, they have to know more about our damn country than we ever had to, it’s ridiculous.”

“Wait, her and Svet are still together? Then what’s with the mom car and shit?”

“Uh… you know… she’s a mom. Jesus, Ian. How’s that TBI treating you?”

“I know she’s a mom, Mandy. I was just wondering why … you know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Mandy smiled, knowing he was dying to just get more dirt on Mickey, but fuck that. If Ian wanted more on Mickey, he was going to have to make more of an effort. 

“Hey, listen. I have surgery in the morning.” His voice sounded suddenly small. “Nothing major – well, I mean, I guess it’s kinda major. They’re putting like 8 different pins in my left leg, so I guess I’m gonna be pretty doped up afterward. Might not call for a few days.”

“Shit, Ian. Do you want me to go out there?”

“No, no… I won’t even know you’re here, and you’ll just be sitting around a hospital room doing nothing. I’m just letting you know. I guess I have to go through it again next week for the right leg, and a couple more after that. I’m all fucked up.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. 

“How much longer are you going to be out there?”

“Could be a couple of weeks… maybe even a couple of months, depending on how physical therapy goes. I talked to one of the VA counselors this morning – she thinks I should look into some kind of nursing care when I come home, you know, since my house isn’t really set up for a wheelchair.”

“Are you telling me you’re never getting out of that chair again? What the fuck, Ian?”

“Never say never. That’s what my doctor said, anyway. I’m not paralyzed, but I won’t be running any marathons any time soon.” He sighed, and his lips began to tremble as the fear of never walking again crept up on him. “Mands, I’m so tired. I’ll call you in a few days, ok? Tell everyone I said hi and give Yevy a big hug from me.” He hung up the phone before she could say anything more, then wiped the tears from his cheeks.


	58. Chapter 58

Mickey pulled his work gloves off, and put his hand over his eyes, squinting against the sun. 

“Over to the left! Yeah, right there.” He climbed the ladder, pulling a long rope behind him and handing it off to his buddy on the roof. “Here. Loop this through that O-hook and we’ll use it to pull up the rest of the boards.

When Mickey had gone to Colin for some work, building a fucking 10-car garage wasn’t what he had in mind, but it was all Colin was willing to give him. “I have a foreman who’s trying to bleed me dry, Mickey. You’d be doing me a favor. Besides, it’s basically what you’re doing all day, but you’ll have your own crew.”

Mickey didn’t know anything about being a foreman, but fortunately, the crew was well trained and made learning easy. There had been some mishaps along the way, but Colin watched his brother learning and was patient with him, even when a few things ended up costing twice as much as they’d expected. It got easier and he got better with time. Mickey wasn’t just their boss's brother, showing up and busting asses; He worked as hard as any of them each day, and earned their respect.

“Yo, Mickey! Colin’s on the phone. Needs to talk to you.” It was Paul, Mickey’s second in command.

“I’ll call him back.”

“He said it can’t wait.” Paul held up the phone and gave him an impatient look, needing to get back to his own work.

Mickey grumbled his way down the ladder and took the phone. “The fuck is so important?”

“Found a duplex for you!”

“What? I don’t even know what that fucking means.”

“A duplex! You know, two houses, connected in the middle. It’s a shit hole, broken windows, needs paint, probably has rats and rotting floors, but we can handle that shit. Anyway, I was driving by and there’s some hot chick out there cleaning up the yard, so I stopped to talk to her. Turns out she’s the agent. Said it’s going on the market next week, but she’d let you come by and take a look at it sooner if you’re interested.”

“I can’t buy a fucking duplex!” 

“Why not? It’s perfect. It’s a piece of shit foreclosure – she’s just looking to get this place off her books, Mick. It’s got a yard with a fence - granted, it's a shitty fence, but you know, we’ll build another one. And it’s like 6 bedrooms total. You can rent one out just to pay your mortgage each month, or, you know…”

“I know what?” Mickey wasn’t catching on.

“Shit Mickey, I don’t know how your little harem works, but maybe Svet can live on one side, and you and Superman can shack up on the other side. Jesus, Mickey! We can figure that shit out later. I need you to get your ass over here while she’s still working on the yard before someone else comes and takes it.”

“NOW?” 

“Yes, right fucking now! Leave Paul in charge.”

Mickey rolled into the neighborhood twenty minutes later, sure he was in the wrong place. Colin had said “It’s South side, man. Like home!” but this wasn’t any South side Mickey could remember. It was bordering on Fucking Boujiville as far as Mickey could tell. Gentrified through and through, but he couldn’t argue it would be a nice place to raise a kid. He slowed his car, looking for a shitty duplex someplace in between all the cottage homes, and just as Colin had promised, Mickey found it without a problem. 

The fence wasn’t as bad as Colin had made it out to be, and Mickey immediately found himself thinking of the quick fix he could do to make it safe for Yevgeny. The yard was small in front but ran along the side of the house to the back with plenty of space to play. The agent, who was near the back of the house turned to look at Mickey’s old beater car pulling up. She wiped loose hairs from her face and came walking up with a smile.

“Mickey? Hi, your brother mentioned you were coming.” She led him to the patio.

“Where’s Colin?” Mickey asked, looking around. Colin’s car was parked on the other side of the street but there was no sign of him anywhere.

“He’s inside making a to-do list.” 

She opened the door and walk him through the first unit. The board on the front window left it looking dark and dingy, but for the most part, it looked livable. 

“Of course, the floor would need to be sanded, but it’s still in pretty good shape.” She jumped up and down as if to demonstrate its solidity, then moved on. “Two bedrooms off the side with a shower and tub bathroom there…” Mickey made his way into each room as she talked, “The kitchens are a little unusual since they are in the center footprint of the house, but they each have these wonderful skylights, and of course they open up to the back yard. The Master bedroom is there, and it has its own 3/4 en suite bath.” 

Mickey found himself getting excited about everything he saw, then reminded himself that a place like this was way outside of his price range.

“How much?”

“Excuse me?”

“What’s the price?” He asked again, knowing this was the part where his hopes got crushed and cursing himself for showing up at all.

“Well, as you can see the property needs a lot of work. The roof isn’t leaking, but the inspection showed it was going to need to be replaced within a year or two. And the other unit isn’t quite as nice as this one, so – “

“Just bottom-line it. How much.”

The agent had been hopeful. She thought the neighborhood itself would be enough to find a buyer at an inflated price, but the truth was even the bank just wanted it off their books. They were happy to take as little as $35,000 just to cut their losses. With any luck at all, she had hoped to clear $80k after closing, but with an actually interested buyer in front of her, she upped the price.

“I’m listing it for $120,000. But the homes in this market sell well above that price, so with a bit of TLC, the property value here will just go up.”

“How much money do I need to put down for a place like this?”

“Ballpark, if you did a 203k loan and possibly a grant, I’d say we could get you in here for about $18,000 altogether.”

Eighteen thousand dollars. The number ran through Mickey’s head over and over, but he didn’t panic. He still had most of the money from the sale of his dad’s house, and he could work the rest of with Colin if he could front him a few thousand. Before he had a chance to talk himself out of it, Colin came around the back from the other unit.

“Hey, you made it! What do you think? Great huh?”

“It’s a fucking mess,” Mickey said purposely. No reason to make it an easy sell for the agent. “Do you have any idea how much work I’d have to do before I could move in here?” The answer was none, if he was being honest. The half of the duplex he’d just seen was already a hundred times better than the Milkovich house ever was, and he managed to live there most of his life, but Colin played along.

“Shit, you’re right. You can’t bring a kid into this place. Just look at that ceiling… is it bowing?” Colin squinted as if to get a better look.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Have to pull the whole damn top off just to fix the joists.” Mickey said. “And the plumbing. That tree in the front has probably eaten through the pipes. I’d have to get that removed and re-pipe the whole damn place. Not to mention the windows.” He walked over and knocked on the glass, “Aluminum frames in a Chicago winter, no fucking thanks.”

“True. Speaking of winters, I was just in the cellar. You’d need a new furnace, maybe two of them, pretty soon.” Colin began looking over the list he’d made. Nowhere on the list did it mention the furnace, but the agent was looking antsy, so he continued. “Plus, you might need to get the foundation checked too. I’m sorry man, I shoulda taken a better look around before I called you out here and wasted your time.”

Mickey turned as if to leave, dismissing the whole idea with a wave of his hand.

“Wait! Don’t go yet!” Lora spoke quickly. 

“Nah, sorry. I haven’t even seen the other side yet, and I already know I ain’t paying that price.”

“Well, I have some wiggle room.” She said, then added, “A little bit. Not much.”

“Wiggle room ain’t gonna cut it. This place should be razed. I’ll give you $50,000 today for the lot alone, but that’s the best I can do.” Colin offered.

The agent knew Colin and Mickey were both in construction, and looking at the long list of repairs he'd written down, she began to think she had even been too hopeful herself. The place was a mess, well beyond new paint and windows. She looked from one brother to another, neither of them seem to budge on this final price, but she knew she just couldn't fold that easily. 

“I can go as low as…”


	59. Chapter 59

MANDY: I had big plans for how I was going to spend my money, all of which added up to about three times the amount of money I actually had; so instead I bought a pair of Aldo boots on sale and set the rest aside. When Mickey came back from Maryland, he got so busy with work that he was almost never home. He worked construction downtown until 4 in the afternoon, then spent evenings with another night crew until almost midnight. On the weekends he was still running collections with Colin, and by Sunday night, he was passed out cold by 7 pm, just so he could start all over again on Monday.

We hadn’t talked about moving for almost a month, and the landlord was beginning to bitch about all of us living in his 2-bedroom shit hole, so I finally decided it was either time to get out or help Mickey get on with looking for a new place, so I knocked on his bedroom door, hoping to catch him before he fell asleep.

\----- 

“What?” Mickey gathered the letters Ian had sent him, stacking them neatly in numerical order. He had read and reread them so many times that he didn’t even have to look at the numbers on the back to know what order they went in anymore. There were eight missing letters. He had hoped that they would eventually show up, but Ian had told him the mail was unreliable, and they might never arrive. He still wanted them. 

Mandy stood at the door watching her brother gather his treasured letters, without a single bit of shame for holding on. She never told him how often Ian asked about him, but it was times like that that she wondered if knowing would help him or hurt him more. 

“Remember when we talked about me maybe moving with you, and helping with rent?” she asked. He didn’t say anything, waiting for more to that question. “Well, anyway, I was just wondering if you wanted me to start looking for a place – you know, before that asshole tries to evict you for having me here or something.”

“No.” He tucked the letters back into the drawer next to his bed, but when Mandy didn’t leave, he asked, “Was there something else?”

“No… I mean, well, yes. Aren’t we even gonna talk about this? Would it be better if I just got my own place? I still have my money, so I can help with a deposit or whatever – just let me know.”

“Yeah, about that. I’m gonna need about $3000. You got it?” 

Mandy’s eyes grew wide, “Uh, sure, b-but… why? I mean, I know I haven’t been paying rent yet, but that’s a lot for a deposit, don’t you think?”

“It’s not a deposit. I bought a house, and I’m gonna be short about that much.” He said, tucking his legs under his blankets and waving his hand at the light switch, telling Mandy to turn it off. She flipped the switch.

“You did what?? Did you say you bought a house? Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked. “Does Svet know about this?”

“Yeah, she knows. And now you do too. I didn’t tell you because I haven’t seen you in a fucking week. Besides, your shit is still in boxes, so what does it matter?”

“Where? How?” She flipped the light switch back on, needing answers now, but Mickey protested, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Mandy. Not tonight, ok? Short end, Colin and I found a place. I’ll take you there this week when we do the walkthrough. Now turn my fucking light off so I can get some sleep.”

Mandy closed his door, but went straight to Svet’s room and knocked lightly. When she didn’t answer, Mandy was left with no one to talk to about this new development, so she called Ian.

“Did I wake you up?”

His voice was groggy and slurred, “No, I’m up. Just watching TV. What’s up?”

“How was therapy today?” 

“Ugh god, I don’t wanna fucking talk about it.” Instead, he talked for several minutes about meeting with his VA liaison who was supposed to be helping him with all the medical paperwork to ensure he got the continued treatment he would need once he was transferred back home to Chicago. He’d already undergone 5 different surgeries with the possibility of more to come in the future, but for the time being the VA felt it was time to move him to an in-house rehab center closer to home.

“So, you’ll be back in Chicago, but still in a hospital?” Mandy asked. “Why can’t you just stay at your house?”

"Can’t exactly get around in my condition right now, Mands. I got fucking plaster covering 80% of my body. My house doesn’t even have a bathtub on the 1st floor, so I guess this is probably better. For now. I’ll figure out where I’m going once I get all this shit off.” The casts were driving Ian crazy. He had been limited to sponge baths at the hospital and spent most of his time either lying in bed or sitting in a wheelchair. He couldn’t wait to get out of there.

“So, speaking of houses, that’s why I called you. Mickey bought a house!” 

“He what? Where? How?” Ian asked, his attention piqued. 

“That’s exactly what I said, and I don’t know. I just found out, but I’m going with him to see it this week, so I’ll take plenty of pictures and send them to you. Did you get a new phone yet?”

He hadn’t. As much as he’d set his mind to the idea of him and Mickey moving on with their break up, he hadn’t yet called Mickey to ask for any of his things back. It seemed pointless in his situation, and the phone Lip had given him was working out just fine as long as he remembered to increase the minutes before they expired. He made Mandy promise details of the new house as soon as she knew more, even if it was just an address he could look up online, and she kicked herself for not thinking to get that from Mickey before he’d fallen asleep.

“Any idea when you’ll be back in Chicago?” She asked. 

“Rumor has it they’re evicting me from this place in about 10 days.” He wasn’t too worried about seeing Mandy in his condition. He’d already sent her plenty of photos, but his stomach did a flip at the idea of seeing Mickey again. “I’m gonna crash, k? I’m pretty tired.”

Ian hung up the phone and turned off the TV, then laid there in the dark thinking about Mickey’s new house. Once again, he was stuck with a deep emptiness at the thought of Mickey and Svet moving on with their lives, without him.

\----------

Before lunch, Ian met with his orthopedic surgeon for the 6th time in four weeks. He expected it to be a routine appointment, but this time when the doctor removed his arm cast, he only replaced it with a soft wrap and a sling. 

“How’s that feeling? Pretty good?” Ian tried to move it in full round motion but quickly stopped when his shoulder screamed in pain. “Whoa, slow down, slugger! You’re not quite ready to pitch any fastballs yet. You’ll get there.”

Next came the leg casts. The surgeries had all gone well, according to the Doc. Ian could only base that on the fact that his pain meds had been reduced to 800 mg of Motrin every 6 hours as needed, which was a far step from the morphine drip he had started on. The first cast came off, then the next, leaving his legs looking ghostly thin stretched out on the bed in front of him. The Doc was looking at the most recent x-rays as Ian wiggled his toes and relished in the feeling of fresh air against his skin. 

“This is all looking really great, Ian. Another two weeks, maybe three, and I think we can move you to some braces. Promise not to move around up there and I’ll give you a few minutes to air out before we get the new casts on, ok?” He left Ian just as the ping ping ping sound of texts began.

“Holy shit.” He said, looking at the photos Mandy had sent as they came in, one right after the other. She’d included pictures of the street, the yard, the garage, then came photos of the interior, room after room. 

He sent her a text: Is that the same kitchen? One has a blue wall and one is white walls, and there are 2 stoves.

Mandy: It’s a DUPLEX! He bought a fucking duplex! It’s awesome! I can’t wait for you to see this. When do you come home?

Ian scrolled back through the pictures and counted the rooms again. He had thought they were just the same rooms taken at different angles, but looking at them again, he counted at least 5 bedrooms, 3 or 4 bathrooms, and yes, TWO front doors! He was about to call her when the Doc came back. 

“Ok, let’s get this done so you can get back in time for lunch. Sound good?” The Doc asked.

Ian set his phone aside as more pings came through. He pressed the button to silence the notifications but caught the last picture she’d sent. It was a picture of Svetlana, Yevgeny, and Mickey standing in the background of their new yard. Ian enlarged the picture, to see the huge smile on Mickey’s face as he showed Yevgeny his new yard, and completely missed everything the Doc was talking about as he wrapped Ian's legs in cotton again.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=xi-GOf6RpwI&feature=share

Tony had a house. He didn’t own it, but it was his as much as anyone’s since the old man who owned it was like 150 years old, lived in the bottom apartment, and depended on Tony to keep the place from falling down. Iggy lived with his girlfriend, and probably would the rest of his life. Colin was the only Milkovich to own his own house, and his own business for that matter. Sure, he sold drugs too – it was the South side, who didn’t sell a little dope from time to time – only in Colin and Tony’s case, it was more of a full-time job than a way to earn extra beer money. 

Mickey would have been doing it too if things had gone a little differently with Ian. Truth be told, he missed the money, but was damned happy Colin wasn’t letting him get involved in selling anymore. Anyhow, now Mickey owned a house too, and he hadn’t had to buy it with illicit funds, which made him pretty damn proud of himself. 

Colin had co-signed his loan and took him out to celebrate after signing the closing papers and collecting the keys. Mickey walked his drunk ass home from the bar by 11 o’clock, whistling a tune and handing out unsolicited hugs to everyone at home as he tossed each of them a copy of their new key.

“You get a house! And you get a house! And you get a fucking house!” he laughed, then he went to see his sleeping son in his crib. He ran his hand softly over Yevgeny’s belly and whispered, “And you get a house, little man.” 

He went back into the living room, bouncing off the door frame in his drunken state, and said, “Call that fucker tomorrow and give him our 30-day notice. No! Fuck it! Give him two fucking weeks. Let him keep his fucking deposit, I don’t care.” He held up his own new house key, “I got a fucking house!”

Mickey took himself straight to bed, not bothering to get undressed, and stared at the ceiling feeling pretty damn good. Without giving it a second thought, he took his phone from his pocket and called Ian.

“Hello?” Ian had been fast asleep when his phone rang.

“God, it’s so fucking good to hear your voice.” Mickey purred. “I bought you a house, Gallagher. When the fuck are you coming home?”

Ian pushed himself up in bed. Just the sound of Mickey’s voice had his heart racing again, “Mick? You drunk?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking drunk. Drunk enough not to care if you’re fucking pissed at me for calling, so don’t ruin my high and start fighting.” He chuckled. “Come on, man! I’m celebrating. We have a god damn beautiful fucking house, Ian… didn’t you hear me?”

Ian was silent for just a few seconds. He wanted to stand his ground. Tell Mickey it was a mistake to call. He needed to put a stop to this before it turned into more than it was, which was nothing… a mistake. Mickey didn’t buy him a house… “I’m really happy for you, Mickey.”

“No, not just me. Fuck, did Mandy already call you? That fucking bitch can’t keep a god damn secret, I swear.” He rolled himself into is blanket, the intoxication from the beer no match for the intoxication of hearing Ian’s voice again. “Fuck, Ian. I miss you. When are you coming home?”

Ian couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just end the call and leave Mickey to figure it all out for himself. It wasn’t the promise of a house or even Mickey’s drunken state that kept him on the line. It was simply that he needed to hear Mickey’s voice as much as Mickey had needed to hear his.

“Soon, I think.” It was the best he could do without encouraging Mickey too much. “Tell me about your house, Mick.” 

He listened for twenty minutes as Mickey rattled off the details Mandy had already shared, Mickey told him about all the work that needed to be done, but it was truly a labor of love waiting to happen, and Colin and Tony were going to be over on the weekends to help out. Mickey slowly began to fade, the sleep heavy in his words, and his sentences growing further and further apart, but Ian let him talk until at last, he didn’t say anything at all. Ian waited, listening to Mickey’s steady breathing as he slept, then finally said, “I miss you too, Mickey.”


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HzACC3-Os_Q

MANDY: We didn’t wait two weeks to move. Tony had his truck at our place that weekend, and by 9 p.m. it looked like we had never been there. The new place was great. Yevy still hopped between Mickey and Svet’s room but I finally got a little privacy back. I video chatted with Ian immediately to walk him through. Me and Mickey shared a bathroom, and for some reason Mickey let Svet and Nika take the master bedroom. 

The second unit was full of lumber and power tools. Colin and Mickey started working on it the next day, getting it ready to rent; at least I thought that was the plan until…

\------

“What the fuck!?” Mandy jumped from the sofa and ran around the back of the house to enter the second unit. “Mickey! Are you fucking nuts? You put a hole in the kitchen wall!”

Mickey took his goggles off his head and peeked through the hole. 

“Did I hit anyone?”

“No one’s home but me? Shit, that’s gonna cost some money to fi- FUCK MICKEY!” She screamed, jumping away from flying debris.

Mickey had swung his sledgehammer and hit the wall again, “Put some goggles on or get out.” He mumbled from under the bandana that covered his mouth.

“What the fuck are you doing!” She said, stepping away from his hammer.

Mickey swung again, “I’m - - - - making - - - - a hole - - - - for - - - - a door.” He stood back and admired his work, and for the first time, Mandy noticed the black lines on the wall that marked where the doorway would go.

“Why? You’re not gonna find a tenant who wants to have a door between your house and theirs.”

“What tenant? I’m gonna fucking live here.” He said matter-of-factly, pointing from one unit to the other, “Mine, Svet’s. This way, Yevy can come and go, and we can both have some fucking privacy when I don’t wanna see that bitch.”

“Oh shit. I thought –“

“Well, you thought wrong. You can live on that side as long as you want, but you better fucking call before you just drop over to visit me, got it?” He went back to work on the doorway.

Mandy took a closer look at the work her brothers had been doing, most of it in the master bedroom and bath. The doorway between the two rooms had been widened. The bathroom was completely gutted, and the far wall was now gone so that it opened into the guest bathroom on the other side, making it one large bathroom. It was a mess, with broken tile and drywall strewn about, but one wall was lined with boxes of new tiles, a new toilet, and a double vanity. Mandy took a peek at the tiles, dark blue and gray, then spied a few boxes that looked like giant towel racks. She opened one and realized they were handrails. 

She exited through the second bathroom door into the living room, realizing it had also been widened by several inches and reframed. She looked to the kitchen and saw the passage there had been recut the same way. All the doors in the house were wider now. Wide enough to fit a wheelchair, if necessary. She went back into the kitchen and watched her brother swing away at the wall.

“You need some help?” She called out between hits.

Mickey stopped swinging his hammer. He pulled his goggles off and caught his breath, then looked around at the mess they had made and nodded. “Yeah, I could use some help.”


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=UjWZGLi-1jM&feature=share

Ian waited a week longer than he had hoped before the Army arranged a ride home for him. It had been almost two weeks since he talked to Mickey. Almost two weeks of avoiding his phone calls and texts, and as a result, Ian had started avoiding Mandy’s as well, making excuses when she called as to why he couldn’t talk, or sometimes not answering at all. He didn’t know if they had moved yet, and he didn’t want to know. The less he knew, the less he wanted – and right then, Ian wanted Mickey back.

But not as much as he wanted to let Mickey go. He sat in the lobby of the hospital, with a white hospital bag on his lap, waiting to be loaded into a handicap van that would take him to the airport, both of his legs sitting straight out in front of him in new braces. Ian rubbed at one of his thighs, the sensation of touch nearly lost, but the doctors said it would slowly return. They might be right, he thought. After all, he could feel more now than he had a month before, and he had always been able to wiggle his toes. The Docs blamed it on the traumatic brain injury – TBI – he had suffered, saying, “Sometimes our bodies heal faster than the psyche, and sometimes it’s the other way around. The goal is to get them both to the same place of healing at some point.”

Body and Mind, both healed. Those were the only two goals Ian could allow himself to focus on if he ever wanted to get his life back. He didn’t have the time or energy to worry about the bullshit that his siblings were always up to anymore, and the same went for everyone else. Another Doc had told him that – it was time to be selfish and to put self-healing in front of everything else because the people who loved him would understand and be there through it all. 

But no one was there. The hyper attention he had received the first weeks back in the states had faded. It was harder and harder to find anyone to talk to when he tried to call, and Lip had said it himself when Ian told him he was coming home: “Shit, Ian. How are you even gonna get around out here? We don’t even have a shower you can use at the house, and I can’t be around every day to get you up and down those stairs.” It didn’t matter. Ian was being transferred to another facility where he would stay for at least three weeks. That would give him three weeks to figure out his next step. 

As far as Mickey went, Ian had made up his mind on the matter. Mickey had enough on his plate with a kid and a wife, working 2 or 3 jobs at a time to make ends meet. He didn’t need to be burdened with Ian’s weight as well. In time, Mickey would understand, and Ian knew that. As much as it hurt him to think about it, Mickey had never said ‘come home to me in pieces.” The thought of asking Mickey to carry him up and down a flight of stairs to shit, then further humiliating himself by asking Mickey to wipe his ass was not what Ian wanted in his life. They were both better off this way.

\-------------

Lip was sitting in the lobby of the rehab center, waiting for Ian’s van to arrive. The center was just five miles from where he had been working with Mickey at his new house an hour earlier, installing the drywall and tiles for the new open-designed shower with a built-in bench in case Ian needed it. He brushed away traces of drywall powder from his jeans, and couldn’t help but smile at everything Mickey had been doing. Lip just hoped it wasn’t all for naught.

Initially, Lip didn’t want to get involved, but Mickey had given him no choice but to at least listen to what he had in mind when he showed up at the Gallagher house one early morning and refused to leave.

“You’re gonna fucking listen to what I have to say or I’m not leaving this fucking porch.” Mickey stood on the Gallagher porch in the snow for forty minutes, occasionally pounding on the door and yelling profanities, calling Lip a worthless piece of shit brother, accusing him of not giving a shit about Ian, and threatening to kick his ass for being a fucking pussy if he ever saw him on the street. It was finally Fiona who opened the door for him, with a sleeping mask pulled up haphazardly onto her messy hair.

“Come in, Mickey… and please, shut the fuck up.” She shuffled into the kitchen and left Mickey standing there shocked that someone had actually let him in. “Coffee?”

Mickey took his jacket off and let his body begin to thaw, then followed her into the kitchen. She moved about making coffee, then excused herself, telling him to sit tight. Ten minutes later, then entire Gallagher brood came shuffling down the stairs, half asleep, except for Lip who looked pissed as hell, and Fiona who was now showered and dressed. She went straight to the cupboards and started pulling out the pancake ingredients as everyone else took a seat at the table. 

“Ok. You got our attention, now talk.”

Mickey talked for half an hour, trying to convince the Gallagher’s to work with him, but in the end, the three youngest had no opinion and left the table, and Fiona was dead set against ambushing Ian into moving into Mickey’s new love shack.

“Sorry, Mickey. Ian’s gonna have to figure out what comes next, and it doesn’t sound like this is what he wants. I’m out.” She put her coat on to leave, “Gotta go – I’m gonna be late for work.”

Only Lip and Mickey were left. Lip had hardly said a word the entire time, so Mickey already knew what his answer was. “Fuck…” He got up to leave, not bothering to try to convince Lip any further. 

“So, how much is this gonna cost him?” Lip asked before Mickey walked out.

“Ian? Nothing.” Mickey said, a twinkle of hope seeping back in.

“I mean, like in rent. That’s why you’re doing it right? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t really think you’re up to dealing with the shit Ian’s about to bring home with him, so the way I figure, you’re looking for a guaranteed paycheck each month from the VA – a little help with your new mortgage. Am I right?”

Mickey balled his fists and advanced a step toward Lip, but Lip didn’t retreat. 

“Is that what you fucking think I’m doing? Why? Because that’s what YOU would do, you … fucking prick! I should fucking kick your ass just for saying it.” He shoved Lip back hard, hoping Lip would throw a punch, but Lip just balled his own fists and waited for more. “All you fucking Gallaghers are a waste of fucking oxygen, you know that?” Mickey said, pointing an accusing finger at Lip, “Fuck you, bitch! I’ll fucking do this without you.”

Mickey walked out without saying another word. Four hours later, Lip walked through Mickey’s new front gate, toolbox in hand, and knocked. 

Now here he was, a week later, waiting for Ian, unsure if he should mention what Mickey had been up to or if he should just let them figure it all out for themselves. Before he came to a decision, the front doors of the center slid open and a paramedic came wheeling his brother and his new leg braces through the door. Ian’s face lit up at the sight of a familiar face.

“Jesus, you look good,” Lip said, leaning to give his brother a hug as the paramedic left to the front office to let them know their newest resident had arrived. “Look at these, you look like the bionic man. Can you walk on those things?”

“Nah. But they sure beat casts.” Ian said, tugging at one of the braces with his newly healed arm. “It’s progress.” Ian shrugged. “Still got a lot of work to do.”

\------

Mickey stood outside the center smoking, watching Ian and Lip greet each other, talking and laughing happily, through one of the large pane windows. He wanted nothing more than to walk through those doors himself, but he knew he wasn’t welcome there. It was dark outside, and Ian couldn’t see him, so he walked closer to the building hoping for a better look, not even making an effort to hide from view. A few minutes later, the paramedic and another person dressed in blue scrubs appeared, then led Lip and Ian down a hallway and out of sight. 

Mickey wiped at his eyes and looked around the street, then cleared his throat. He tossed his cigarette into the gutter before getting in his car to leave. Ian had made it clear that he wanted nothing from Mickey right now, and hard as it may be, that was exactly what Mickey was going to give him. The time would come, Mickey was sure of it, when Ian would want more, and Mickey planned on being there, no matter what it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=N_lSJ-0Gl7Q&list=RDAMVMN_lSJ-0Gl7Q


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6NXnxTNIWkc

MANDY: I had to hear that Ian was back in town from my ex-boyfriend, who had suddenly become Mickey’s best friend, hanging around the house until all hours of the night. I was just waiting for the day he had the balls to show up with his new bitch on his arm! Anyway, I guess it didn’t really matter anymore. Lip and I were over. We barely had anything to say to each other when he was there, but it was a little awkward when I was helping Mickey clean up at the end of each day and Lip was still there.

Mickey had left to grab some pizzas, and I decided to just go back to the other side of the house to avoid Lip, but I wasn’t fast enough.

\----- 

“It’s really coming together nice, isn’t it?” Lip asked standing in the doorway of the bathroom. He and Mickey had just finished installing the double vanity which was slightly lower than a standard vanity. “I didn’t know Mickey knew how to do all this shit.”

“He doesn’t,” she said. “He stays up all night watching YouTube videos or going to Home Depot for lessons after work if Colin's not around. He mostly does just general construction at work.” She said, pointing to the new stained doorways and storm windows. 

Lip nodded, doubly impressed now at the work they had done. He had only followed Mickey’s lead on each job, assuming Mickey knew exactly what they were doing. It made sense now, the way Mickey constantly referred back to his pages and pages of notes, and even his phone now and then, where he re-reviewed a video for the tenth time. 

“So, do you think Ian will, you know, come here? I mean, they aren’t even talking, right? What if he’s doing all of this for nothing? Just wasting his time and money?”

Mandy shook her head. “You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t about his time or money. Mickey plans on being ready for Ian to come home, even if Ian never does. Jesus, Lip, do you even fucking know how to love someone?” She left him standing there wondering what he’d said wrong.

\------

Spring came early. Svet began exploring the neighborhood with Yevgeny once the weather was warmer, and found a nearby playground where there were other kids his age to play with. She sat aloofly on her bench, knowing she’d never fit into this neighborhood no matter how long they lived there. None of that mattered though – it was perfect for Yevgeny and she knew it. The house was more than she had ever expected in her unconventional marriage, and she was determined to find her place there. 

She watched Yevgeny in the sandbox, pouring sand from his cup and giggling when one of the other moms came and sat next to her. The woman looked at Svet, taking in the gaudy faux fur she was wearing, the tight pants and boots, and the lowcut top that showed off her ample bosom.

“Hi. I’m Lyric. Are you new here?” She asked, sugar-sweet.

Svet didn’t even glance in her direction. “Yes.”

“I thought so! I come here a couple of times a week, you know, when it’s warm enough. That’s my daughter, Megan, over there. She’s three. How old is your little boy?” She asked, sounding genuinely interested. Svetlana peeked over at her, then back at Yevgeny.

“He’s fifteen months.” Svetlana couldn’t make out what Lyric’s deal was. Her eyes were more on Svetlana than on the kids. At last, the woman gave herself away.

“I like to come here. It’s a great little park, lots of kids and their moms,” She hesitated, then added, “Do you work? ‘Cause I’m looking for a few new girls who might be interested in making a little extra cash on evenings and weekends, and I think you would be just perfect for it.”

Svetlana turned to face her, eye to eye and smiled. Finally, Lyric was singing her tune. “What did you have in mind?”

\------

“I need money.” Svet was standing in the middle of Mickey's room holding a brown lunch bag.

Mickey furrowed his brows at Svetlana, “Bitch, you have all my fucking money. You want me to cut my fucking wrists and bleed a couple Benny’s for you or what?”

“I don’t mean I need your money. I mean, I need to make my own money.” 

She’d thought about Lyric’s offer for three days. Coming up with the start-up money hadn’t been a problem – Nika had given it to her, but convincing Mickey to take time off from his evening job or working on the second unit to watch Yevgeny was going to be harder.

“Svet, why the fuck are we talking about this again? We can’t afford fucking daycare, so unless you’ve come up with some magic way to sell sex from your own living room,” her eyes lit up and he immediately added, “No! I was fucking joking. Are you just planning to bring some dick home and fucking in the house? Don't answer that! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I was planning on bringing several dicks home, actually.” She pulled a folded brochure from her pocket and showed it to Mickey. “Sex toys. It’s just $200 to get started, then I can start selling them at parties, like that Pimpled Chef shit. I just need you to be around if I have to work.”

Mickey looked over the brochure, making mental notes of a few things he found interesting, then handed it back to her, “No. That’s just some bullshit scam to get you to buy their kit, then you never make a fucking penny off of it and you’re stuck with all these fucking dildos and shit.”

“I’m not asking you for permission. I already paid for it. I’m telling you what I’m doing so that you can start planning on watching your son when I go to work, just like I’ve been doing for you for almost two years. I’ll give you plenty of time to take the time off or get your sister to babysit for you, but you’re doing it whether you like it or not, so get the fuck over it.”

Without waiting on a response, she turned to leave.

“All right,” He conceded, knowing he really didn’t have a choice in the matter, “But when you lose your fucking money, don’t come bitching to me about it.”

“Oh. I almost forgot.” She tossed the lunch bag onto his bed. “Here. To show my appreciation, asshole.”

She pulled the door closed behind her, and Mickey opened the bag, inside was a bottle of cherry lubricant and a five-inch vibrating butt plug, batteries already installed. 

“Aah, fuck yes!” Mickey said, going over to lock his bedroom door.


	64. Chapter 64

MANDY: I don’t blame Mickey for Ian being an asshole, but for the third time in our life, Mickey had put a wedge between me and Ian. Even though he’d been in Chicago several weeks, he never seemed to have any time between his PT sessions to see me, and he was still avoiding most of my phone calls. I decided the only way to make it stop was to march right over and kick his ass. 

When I got there, the front office pointed me toward the pool where I found him waist-deep in water with his therapist. I watched from a small window in the door so I wouldn’t bother him, and I’m so glad I did because I ended up blubbering like some fucking baby just watching him. He was holding himself up on a set of parallel bars, struggling to move his legs under the water, but he was fucking doing it! It was slow, and by the way his face was strained and turning ten shades of red, I knew it had to be fucking killing him, but he was walking! I wanted to get a picture for Mickey but,

\----- 

“I’m sorry ma’am. No photos allowed.” A lady passing by pointed at a HIPAA notice on the wall noting No Photos In Center were allowed. 

Mandy tucked her phone away and silently cursed the bitch for walking past right then. When she looked back in the window, Ian was nearly the end of the bars. When he got there, his arms went flax and his whole body went below water. When he pulled himself back up, he had a victorious smile on his face and his therapist was high fiving him. He floated to the edge of the pool and lifted himself out without assistance, his legs dangling in the water below him. 

Mandy opened the door and crept in quietly, not wanting to catch his attention just yet. The therapist tossed Ian a towel then went to his computer to update Ian’s progress for the day. Ian dried his upper body, then used his arm to lift one leg, then the other from the water. Now turned sideways, he saw Mandy standing there for the first time, beaming.

“Mandy!” He spread his arms wide, and Mandy went to him crying. She bent to hug him, not caring about the water she was sitting in. “Oh shit, Mands… you ok?”

She nodded and wiped her eyes. “You were walking, Ian! I’m so proud of you.” 

He chuckled, “Well, kinda. I didn’t have all my weight on my legs, but they are definitely making a comeback.

“Ian, you good here? Want some help with the chair?”

“No thanks. I got it.” Then Ian remembered his manners, “Rob, this is Mandy. We grew up together.”

Mandy wiped away her tears then tried to dry her hands on her wet pants, “oh fuck it!” She said, and reached her wet hand out to shake, “Nice to meet you.”

Ian scooted along the floor to his chair, and like a practiced pro, pulled himself into the seat, then put his legs in each footrest. He threw the towel around his neck and nodded for Mandy to follow him back to his room, where she waited until he showered.

When he rolled out of the bathroom again, he was dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, looking every bit the same Ian she had known since she was seven. Tears welled up again.

“Ah, come on Mands. Don’t cry.”

She nodded, “I’m sorry. Shit, no I’m not! I haven’t seen you in six fucking months, I would have cried no matter what, asshole!” she said, throwing a pillow from his bed at him. Then the melancholy melted away and the bitch he knew best was back, “WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU AVOIDING ME, FUCKER!”

It warmed Ian’s heart. For the first time in months, his smile stretched across his face, and he felt himself for just a few seconds. “I’m not!”

“The fuck you aren’t, bitch! Listen, you wanna be pissed at my shit head brother, that’s up to you, but I. Had. You. First, motherfucker – you got that? Just because you divorce his ass doesn’t mean you divorce mine.”

Ian’s genuine smile faded and was replaced by the fake on he’d been wearing for months. “I’m not mad at your brother.”

“The fuck you’re not. But listen, I’m not here to talk about him,” She caught a quick disappointed look from Ian, “I came to see you. See how you’re doing?”

Ian told her all about his days filled with physical therapy and ice baths, then took her on a tour of the center.

“You’re not stuck here all day are you? Have you been home yet?” She asked as they drank sodas in the courtyard.

“I can leave any time I want, but I really don’t. It would just be too much trouble to get anyplace, then turn around and get right back here for therapy. ‘Sides, I went home with Lip last weekend and getting around the house was a bitch.”

“What are you gonna do when it’s time to leave?”

“They have someone helping me find a place, hopefully on my own, but it might end up being a group home until I can do a few things more independently.” Mandy looked at him like she wanted to cry. “It’s only temporary, Mands. I’m working on it.”

What Mandy really wanted was to tell Ian that Mickey had already figured it all out for him, but it wasn’t her place. Lip hadn’t told him, and as far as she knew, Ian and Mickey hadn’t even been talking, so she decided the best course of action was to let things happen naturally – if it was meant to be, it would be. 

Of course, she knew that was bullshit.

“Are you scared?” She asked.

“Scared? Of what?” He didn’t look at her, which was an answer. “Finding a place? Nah. I’ll be ok. I’m still getting paid.”

“No. About this… about maybe not walking again? About starting over?”

He looked across the courtyard, blinking back the moisture in his eyes, and shook his head. “No. I got this.”

“Ok, I know I said I wasn’t gonna talk about it, but fuck it… What the fuck is going on with you and Mickey?”

Ian wiped the corner of one eye before looking back at her, then went on to say the words he’d rehearsed in his head for two months in order to make himself believe his own story. 

“Nothing’s going on. Mick and I are… we’re just … we broke up.” Already his rehearsed story felt like the lie that it was. Ian could feel the anger building up in him again – a defense mechanism to deal with his loss, according to his psychologist – and tried again, “Why are we talking about this anyway? I mean, I got so much shit I need to deal with right now, Mandy. THIS…” he hit his leg with his hand “This is all I can handle right now, ok? I don’t need to be worrying about whether or not Mickey’s wife and kid need his fucking attention, or if he’s out, selling fucking drugs and getting arrested when I’m gonna need someone I can depend on! I don’t … I can’t… I fucking NEED to be selfish right now. Is that too fucking much to ask for? Why does everyone keep asking me about Mickey! Fuck Mickey! Do you see him here? Has he been here one fucking time since I got home? No. He doesn’t give a fuck about me, so why should I put my entire fucking life on the line for someone who can’t put me first, just one fucking time?”

Mandy reached out and slapped Ian hard across the face, shocking both of them, but shutting him up at last. They stared angrily at the other – both of them knowing they had been wrong to say or do what they had. She stood up and walked away a few steps, covering her face in horror at what she had done. 

“I’m so sorry, Ian! Fuck! I’m so sorry!” She cried, not looking back at him. Tears streamed down her face as she mourned for her best friend and her brother. At last, she turned to face him, but Ian was pushing himself through the doors, headed back to his room. Mandy knew it was better not to follow him because she would only end up defending her brother in his absence, and Mickey would hate her for it.


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_S0aCzxPs8w

Maybe it was the high gloss of the freshly polished wood floors or the pristine, clean edges of the new bathroom tiles that Mickey had taught himself to cut … or perhaps it was the new toy Svetlana had given him … whatever it was, Mickey was walking through his day like he owned the motherfucking world. That familiar Fuck-You saunter was back in his step, though he had no fucks to give and was just fine with it. His side of the house was finished – doorways, trim, new handicap accessible bathroom, floors, windows, and even a new couch to kick his feet up on. It was the perfect place for him and Yevgeny and any red-headed asshole who might find his way there someday.

He spent the morning moving his bedroom furniture and clothes over to his new room, then moved Yevgeny into his very own bedroom for the first time in his life.

“Svet. Why don’t you pick out some paint and curtains and shit for Yevy’s room, and I’ll get that done this weekend.” He took a look around what was now her living and realized there was still a lot of work to do, but there would be time for that. The important part was the house was ready for Ian to come home. “We’ll get started on the floors over here in a couple of weeks. I just need a fucking day to sleep before I start more shit.”

The front door slammed shut and Mickey and Svet went into the living room to see what all the commotion was about.

“Shit! I’m sorry. Was Yevy sleeping?” Mandy walked to her room and slammed that door without waiting for an answer.

“The fuck is her problem?”

“Men,” Svetlana answered.

“What men? Wait, I don’t wanna know. Don’t fucking tell me shit. I’m too tired to fucking care.” He said, waving his hand as if to erase it all from his mind.

“I don’t know what men. I’m just saying that when a woman is that pissed, it’s usually a man’s fault.” Svet said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck you. No, it’s not.”

Mandy opened her bedroom door and saw them both standing there, “Men fucking suck.” She said, then plopped herself down on the couch.

“See,” Svetlana said smugly.

“Yeah, well, you two bitches chit chat amongst yourselves about how much you hate us. I’m going to bed. Don’t fucking wake me up unless the kid’s on fire.”

“I saw Ian today,” Mandy said just as Mickey was escaping.

Mickey dropped his head, wanting to say he didn’t give a fuck – he was, after all, out of fucks to give at the moment, except where Ian was involved.

He turned to look at her, brows raised impatiently as he waited for her to continue.

“He’s fine.” She said angrily. “Fucker. Did you know he was moving? Yeah, like in two weeks. He’s looking for a place now because he can’t stay at the Gallagher’s.”

Mickey rolled his eyes and sighed impatiently. She wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Lip had told him plenty. He’d told him about the apartment search, about Ian’s therapist who seemed to be a little smitten with his red-headed patient (“Yeah, but you know they can’t date or shit if Ian’s still living there.” He had added). He’d even told him about a long conversation where Ian had told him he wasn’t looking to be a burden on anyone’s life, and he’d figure it out. Other people figured it out, so would he. Mickey decided Mandy didn’t have anything new to tell him so he turned to go lay down.

“Don’t you even fucking care?” She called out to him.

“No. I don’t. He can go fuck himself for all I care.” Lies. Big fat fucking lies, but Mickey wasn’t obligated to a god damned person to tell the truth just then.

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what he said about you too.”

That caught his attention. This time he turned, brows raised in a ‘what the fuck did you just say’ glare.

“He said that?”

“He might as well have. Said you don’t give a fuck about him, and he wasn’t gonna get better if he didn’t start putting himself first, selfish fucking prick!”

“Hey! Watch your fucking mouth, bitch.”

Mandy held back a smile. She knew Mickey would come to Ian’s defense. She turned to look the other way and saw the look on Svetlana’s face that said, ‘well done,’ and nearly smiled.

“I’m just saying, he’s being a little bitch.”

Mickey left her sitting there, now pissed at her and Ian equally. He kicked his shoes off so hard one flew into the wall and the other under the bed, then he stepped out of his jeans and threw them as well.

“Fucking little bitch!” He grumbled. From the doorway in the kitchen, Svetlana asked if he was going to be awake for dinner. “NO! Leave me the fuck alone!” He slammed his bedroom door then threw himself onto his bed, and pulled a pillow over his head.

“Fucking little… who the fuck does he think he is?” Mickey asked no one at all. “I’m fucking there three god damn days a week and I’m not even allowed to fucking see him!”

He was up again, pacing the floor, fists balled, steam practically rising from each ear. He stopped in front of a wall and slammed his hand against it a few times, then paced some more.

“Motherfucker!”

He was on the floor now, searching under the bed for his missing shoe. He slipped into his clothes again, then grabbed his jacket and headed out the door. “Fucking asshole.” He grumbled as he slammed the new wide cut front door behind him.

Fifteen minutes later, Mickey pulled his car into the lot outside the rehab center, slamming his door as he exited. Never in his life did he want to punch that fucking idiot more than he did at that moment. He barely looked both ways before jogging across the busy road and walking straight into the building past the front office where he was supposed to check-in. He knew exactly where Ian’s room was, but it was Saturday afternoon, which meant Ian was probably out on the basketball court or in the computer/TV lounge.

Mickey walked with a purpose, familiar with every inch of the center from his frequent visits between jobs. Just because Ian wouldn't see him didn't mean he wasn't going to see Ian. He greeted anyone who passed him with his once familiar ‘get the fuck out of my way’ scowl, ignoring their usual welcomed "Hellos."

He stopped to look through the window at the gymnasium just to make sure Ian wasn’t in there stretching out on the mats, then went passed the pool where he had watched Ian on the parallel bars a half dozen times. He took a right at the end of the hall and looked out the large windows to see if Ian was on the basketball court outside. When that came up empty, he turned to the stairway, not bothering to go back to the elevators, and took them up to the third floor.

The door slammed open when he entered the floor. Fortunately, no one was sitting at the front desk of the computer room so Mickey just went on it, determined to find that fucking redhead!

“Ian!”

Ian looked up from the magazine he was reading, his mouth falling open at the sight of Mickey Fucking Milkovich Extraordinaire coming toward him. The last time he'd been this scared and this turned on by the sight of Mickey had been years before when he wasn’t sure if Mickey wanted to fight him or fuck him, and at that very minute the question still remained.

“Mickey?”

“Shut the fuck up!” Mickey grabbed the handles of his chair and rolled him away from the only other person in the room.

“Ian, you ok? You need me to call someone?” The guy called out, but Mickey turned a deadly glare on him, daring him to do it.

“Don’t you fucking move,” Mickey said. The guy held his hands up, surrendering.

"Mick... what the fuck..." Ian said.

Mickey rolled him to the back of the room behind three rows of books, then walked around to face him head-on. He leaned in, pinning Ian’s arms to the chair and getting right in his face.

“Do you have any idea how fucking pissed I am right now? Fuck! You listen to me, asshole. You once walked the fuck into my room, drunk off your ass in the middle of the night thinking you were man enough to fuck with me, and then you threw up on me. I could have shot you in your fucking head, but you did it anyway!” Mickey pushed Ian’s chair away from him angrily, ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath, then advanced and grabbed Ian again. “You are the fucking … dumbest motherfucker I know, Ian, I swear to god... But you’re also the fucking bravest person I know!”

Mickey leaned in, locking his lips to Ian’s, kissing him long and hard, pulling him in and tasting him. In the shock of being chair-napped, then yelled at, then kissed, all in the span of one minute, Ian wasn’t sure what to do… but that only lasted half a second. He grabbed Mickey around the neck and deepened their kiss. Just as Ian fell comfortably into it, Mickey pulled away, chest heaving, his anger and love for Ian caught bubbling inside of him.

He looked toward the door to see if the other guy had called security on him, then around the room nervously. It was a mistake to go there, Mickey knew that. He couldn’t push Ian into anything – just like that first night, Ian would have to come to him. But it was too late for that now. He looked back at Ian.

“Figure out your shit, Ian! Do you hear me? And call me when you’re done being a little bitch.” He said at last, then left Ian sitting in the corner by himself.

Ian smiled a little crooked smile as he watched Mickey storm away. His smile grew so that by the time the other guy wheeled over to check on him he looked like a love-struck puppy.

“You ok?” the guy asked, “Who was that?”

“Just some guy.” He said, his smile never fading. 

A few seconds later a large man wearing a polo with ‘Security’ across his pocket came walking in, looking around for Ian. The only two people in the room seemed to be ok, “Someone called the front desk for security. Everything ok in here?”

Ian’s wheel buddy looked at him sheepishly, “Sorry, man. I thought that guy came in here to kill you.”

Ian’s smile grew even bigger. God damned if he didn’t miss Mickey in all his grumpy ass splendor. Ian looked at the guard, “We’re ok. Just a misunderstanding.” He wheeled past both of them and went to the window overlooking the parking lot just in time to see Mickey’s tires leaving tread marks in the street as he left. 


	66. Chapter 66

“So, what time do you want me to meet you there?” Lip asked. 

“Sometime after 12:30. The handi-van is supposed to be here at 11:45 but it’s always late.” Ian said as he fluffed a pillow behind him and laid back. He looked down at his legs before he pulled the blanket over them and wiggled his toes. Not hearing what Lip was saying anymore, Ian rolled a little to the right, resting his weight on his right hip, then pulled his left leg up slowly without assistance and smiled.

“Ian, did you hear me?”

“Huh? Sorry, what’d you say?”

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You can stay at the house, you know. It’s your house. I don’t know, we can set up a bed in the dining room or something.”

Ian pulled rolled a little to the left and made an effort to pull the right leg up as well. It didn’t move as easily, but it moved. He put his hand under his thigh and helped a little, then smiled when they were both bent at an angle in front of him.

“What if I need something upstairs and no one’s home? Or if I need to get in the tub?” Ian asked, just barely humoring Lip in the conversation as he continued to move each leg up and down.

“Someone is always home. We’ll figure it out.” Lip asked, knowing the answer would be no.

“I don’t know Lip. We’ll see. Let’s just take a look at this place, ok? Military’s paying for it as part of my housing, and it’s already all handicapped accessible.” Ian was getting used to using that word without cringing – handicapped – but as he moved his legs, he was determined to make it a temporary word in his life.

“Yeah, ok.” 

“Hey, Lip? You talk to Mandy?”

“No, why?”

“She was here today. Slapped me across my face.” He laughed. It was funny in retrospect, and probably only because he was glad it was her slapping him instead of Mickey punching him, which Ian was sure Mickey wanted to do. “I kinda deserved it, I guess.”

“Shit, like really slapped you, or just playing.”

“Oh no. She wasn’t playing. Left her handprint right across my cheek. You’ll see it tomorrow.” Ian rubbed at the mark on his face.

“What did you do?”

“I was being a little bitch… or so I’ve been told.” The puppy smirk was back. “Anyway, I was just wondering if she told you.”

“Nah, you know me and Mandy aren’t really talking. I really fucked that up.” Lip said regretfully. 

“Can you fix it?” Ian asked, knowing damn well he couldn’t.

“Can you?” Lip asked. “I mean with Mickey?” 

Ian nodded his head slightly but didn’t answer. “I don’t wanna talk about Mickey.” Lip could tell it was a lie.

“Why not? We talk about everything else. Why not him? Come on, Ian. I know this hasn’t been easy, but what do you think it’s been like for him?”

Ian was silent for a long time, his legs forgotten as he tried to think of something to say that wasn’t a lie. The only thing he could think of was, “I miss him.”

“Have you told him that?” Lip asked.

“Haven’t talked to him. Besides, it won’t make a difference. I need to do this on my own. It’s not his job to save me, you know?” Ian said. 

“It’s not the lighthouse’s job to save the ships, Ian, but that doesn’t mean the lighthouse isn’t there to help them find their way. That’s all he wants, you know?”

Ian laughed, “You get that bullshit from a philosophy class or something?”

“Fuck you! You know what I’m saying. Mickey isn’t the kind of guy who’s gonna let you pussy up. Hell, he’d probably push you harder than you push yourself, but one thing’s for damn sure, he’ll be there to catch you every time you fall.”

Ian couldn’t help but be suspicious, “Why are you saying nice shit about him?” 

Lip laughed, “I don’t know. He was over a couple of times when you were overseas… he’s changed a lot since we were kids. That’s all I’m saying.”

“Ok. Listen, I have to get up early so I’m gonna call it a night.” They said their goodbyes and Ian turned out his light. He opened up a blank text message to Mickey and stared at the empty text box until his phone finally timed out. He put his phone on the nightstand then pulled the blanket over his legs to go to sleep.

Lip helped Ian move some clothes and furniture into the room he was renting in the group home. There was a stipulation to living there which includes sharing shopping, cleaning, and cooking duties, all designed to teach the occupants to become independent. The home was located on a public transit line, was fully handicapped accessible, but offered a few challenging areas for Ian to learn to navigate as well, including standard-sized kitchen and living areas, and a non handicapped bathroom which he could practice using in a pair of swimming trunks with one of the resident physical therapists. Fortunately, his daily shower would be easier.

Lip pulled a lawn chair into a shady area of the grass and lit up a smoke. “I guess it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. It’s definitely better than that first one we looked at.”

Ian laughed, “You mean the one where someone’s pet rat ran out of the shower? Yeah, definitely better than that.”

“So, you gonna start looking for a job now, or what?” Lip asked, not knowing what came next.

“Technically, I’m still working for the military. Right now, I need to focus on getting to my appointments, but I’ll be putting in a couple of hours a month at the recruiting office too.”

“When do they release you from all that shit?” Lip asked.

“In about two and a half more years. I’m not out of the military, Lip. I signed for 4 years, and as long as I can do a job, they’ll expect me to work. At least until they decide I have enough of a disability to release me. I’ll take a physical test in about 5 months to see if I can go back full time. 

“You gotta be shitting me.”

“Remember Lieutenant Wakefield? He’s missing an entire leg.”

“No shit. I thought it was weird when he slammed his leg into the table and didn’t even flinch. Do you want to go back?” Lip asked quietly, hoping the answer was no. One close call was one too many as far as he was concerned.

Ian had thought long and hard about it. The military was all he’d wanted to do for most of his life, but now all he wanted was to walk again. What happened later could wait. “I just want to take a piss standing up again.”

The group home was only temporary. Ian could stay as long as six months – long enough to learn some vital life skills given his new limitations, and long enough to find a permanent place more suited to his new lifestyle. He was determined to move out as soon as he was ready. 

Lip tossed his cigarette onto the grass and snuffed it out with his foot. “I should get going. You need a ride or anything to the center this week?”

“Nope. I’m supposed to use public transit for all of that, but maybe we can grab something to eat.”

He followed Lip to his car, then checked his watch. It had been a week since Mandy came to see him, and neither of them had reached out to the other since. Ian knew it was going to have to be him, and there was no better time to do it. He nearly sent a text to ask her to meet him someplace, but she had specifically asked him to come visit saying, “Yevy misses you too, Ian.” All week he’d talked himself out of it because of Mickey, but Mandy was right – just because he and Mickey broke up didn’t mean she had to lose out too. It was time to bite the bullet and get on with life.

He looked up the address she had sent him a month earlier, then checked the train schedule – less than half an hour, even for him. 


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U56Ns66Qrb8

Ian rolled down the street toward Mickey’s house, and every push that took him closer made his heart beat a little faster. There was still time to turn around, he kept telling himself, but his arms were on a mission of their own and just kept moving him forward. The houses were well kept with clean yards and flowerbeds, which made it difficult to imagine Mickey living on that block – it was a far cry from the Milkovich style. 

He got to the end of the block, then looked around in confusion. He checked the address one more time, hoping he hadn’t taken the train to the wrong place – nope – that was definitely the right street. He opened the photo Mandy had sent – he was looking for a duplex with dull gray chipped paint, a broken fence that hung out onto the sidewalk, hanging shutters, and two brown plywood doors. He’d only passed a couple of duplexes but none that matched the photo as far as he could remember. Ian turned and went back, looking at the addresses on the houses this time, hoping to match one to the photo. Maybe Mandy had sent the wrong address, he thought.

When he rolled himself to the front of the correct house, it almost completely different than the photo. The yard was now cleaned and the grass a trimmed, healthy spring green. There were new flowerbeds freshly tilled near the front gate which was also brand new, and no longer hanging over the walkway. The front doors had been replaced by deep blue doors, both larger than what appeared in the photo, and the house itself had been given a fresh coat of paint. The only thing that was the same was the large tree in the front yard which had a little tykes red and yellow car parked beneath it. 

Ian opened the gate and rolled in, going to the only door with a lawn chair and baby toys on the porch. He hesitated to knock on the door, taking a second look at the photo just to be sure he was at the right place, then, at last, he rang the bell. When no one answered, he knocked, and when that didn’t get a response he turned to leave.

But… the walkway went all the way to the back of the house, and curiosity killed the cat… Ian took a look around, seeing no sign of anyone home and rolled to the back of the house, trying to peek into the windows, but they were uncharacteristically covered with curtains. He rolled around the corner of the house and came face to face with a boy, much too big to be Yevgeny, standing on his own and talking baby gibberish as he rolled fresh dirt down his shirt.

Ian swallowed hard to hold back his tears, then smiled, “Hi Yevy,” He said softly. 

Yevgeny gave him a cheesy smiled and squealed, then held his hands up, “Papapapa!”

Svetlana turned from the work she was doing in a new flower bed and wiped a few stray hairs away with her muddy hands.

“Look who finally remembered to come home.” She rolled herself up from the ground, picking Yevgeny up and handing him to Ian, then kissed Ian on the head. “Nice wheels.”

Ian nodded. It was all he could do as Yevgeny smacked his baby hands against his cheeks and sucked a kiss onto Ian’s face.

“Come in. I’ll get cleaned up.” Svetlana held the door. Ian sat Yevgeny on his lap, then struggled his way into the door, making sure to hold the wiggling toddler close. 

“I rang the bell.”

“I heard. I thought you were selling something. Besides, no one else is home and I wasn't expecting company.”

“I should have called.” 

"No, of course not. Don't be stupid. She led him to the house and opened the door to the kitchen. 

“I was hoping Mandy was home.” 

The kitchen was clean and the smell of fresh paint lingered in the air, though none of the walls looked freshly painted. Some things in the room were just as Ian remembered at their old place – the same toaster, the same tables and chairs, but the curtains and floor mats were new. There was a door leading to the living room, another to a bedroom, and one more, Ian assumed, to a pantry.

“Wow, this is really nice, Svet. You really made it feel like home. You like your new house, Yevy?” He asked, kissing Mickey’s son on the head and taking a long slow sniff of his baby smell, dirt and all.

“Go look around. I’ll wash up and get us something to drink.” Ian tried to put Yevy down, but he wasn’t having any of it, so he wrapped his arm around him and went exploring together. 

The house was clean and bright, but still had the feeling of family with toys tossed about, and a folded blanket and pillow at the end of the couch. Ian peeked into the bathroom, but didn’t enter, then went on to the next room. It smelled of fresh paint and had choo-choo train curtains. In addition to Yevgeny’s crib and toys, there was a well-worn futon that Ian assumed Mickey slept on when he wasn’t on the couch. 

Svet set a couple of sodas on the coffee table then walked to meet him. 

“I finally got my own room.” She said.

Ian hit the door frame backing out of the room, then got stuck for a second. “Shit, sorry, Svet. Did I scratch it?” he checked to see if he’d already managed to damage her brand-new-to-her house, but she shrugged it off. He peeked into Mandy’s room without bothering to go in, not wanting to get stuck again.

“Come, drink. Mandy won’t be home for a few more hours and Mikhailo is with his brother.” Ian glanced up at the mention of Mickey, so Svet offered more. “He’s working for Colin instead of at the bar now.”

“He selling again?” He asked, knowing the answer was yes. It was the family business after all.

“I don’t ask how he gets money. I just spend it.” She laughed.

He did his best to push Mickey out of his head and turned his attention instead to Yevgeny and Svetlana. It had been easy staying away for so many weeks – out of sight, out of mind – but now, with Yevgeny in his arms again, Ian wasn’t so sure it had been the right thing to do.

“I can’t believe he remembers me.” He said in wonder as Yevgeny wobbled around the room to find toys to show Ian. 

“You thought he would forget?” Svetlana asked. She didn’t say, ‘he sees you every day,’ or ‘his daddy reads your letters to him.’ She didn’t tell Ian that Yevgeny would never forget him as long as Mickey didn’t, and that didn’t seem likely to happen any time soon.

Ian stayed as long as he could, but as the sun was setting, he knew he needed to leave. He was wheelchair-bound, and still on the South side, which was not the best combination. He said his goodbyes, holding Yevgeny tight until the last minute, then passing him over to Svetlana and hugging her as well. She and her son stood at the door waving as he went, but before he closed the gate he turned back.

“Any luck finding a renter yet?” He pointed to the second unit.

“No. It needed a lot of work. We’ll see what happens.” She said, then waved as he made his way back down the street to the L.

\----------- 

Mickey was home less than fifteen minutes after Ian had left. He tossed his tool belt onto the couch and kicked off his shoes, then went to the adjoined door in the kitchen to Svet’s side of the duplex. 

“Svet.”

“In here.” She was in Yevgeny’s room getting him ready for a bath. “He was eating dirt.” 

“It’s good for him. You cooking something?” He asked, sniffing a familiar scent in the air that he couldn’t place. 

“No, Nika’s bringing food.” 

He took his naked and started for the bathroom, then sniffed him close. He pressed his nose into Yevgeny’s neck, then lifted him and sniffed him all over, then turned to look at Svetlana.

“Was someone here?” 

“Yes. Ian came to visit. He just left.”

“When? How long? What did he say? Did you tell him anything? What did he want? How did he get – “

Svetlana waved her hand at him impatiently, then took her son for the bath Mickey had already forgotten. “He came to see Mandy, but she’s gone. He didn’t say anything, about you. We had some sodas,” She pointed toward the living room where the soda cans and glasses still sat with unmelted ice, then set her son into the warm bathwater. “He took a train, he liked the house, he looked good, he smelled good, he played with your son, and then he left.”

Mickey looked at the last hints of daylight outside, “Did someone pick him up?”

“I told you, he took the train.”

“You just let him leave? Why didn’t you tell him to wait and I could have given him a ride? Jesus Christ, Svet! Do you have any idea what could happen to him out there?”

She turned to look at him, “The same thing that can happen to any woman any given night of the year, but we all somehow manage. Besides, he knew you would be home from work soon, and he chose to leave. Did you want me to kidnap him? Tie him down?”

Mickey stopped. Ian had known he was coming home, but he left anyway. Mickey nodded his head, then left. “I need a shower.”

\-------------

Ian got back to the group home long after dark. He had thought about Mickey the entire train ride home, now wishing he had stayed longer, but knowing it wouldn’t do either of them any good. He didn’t bother picking up dinner or stopping in the kitchen to make anything. Instead, he headed for his room and closed his door. 

It was similar to the barracks he’d lived in on-base, complete with furnishings and a mini kitchen with a microwave. It was fully equipped with handicap rails to assist him in standing and moving about on his own, and had a plain white linoleum floor (“to avoid trips and falls” the administrator had told him). There were white vinyl blinds over the windows, the same green bed cover on his bed that was in every other bed of the house, and generic framed photos on the wall. He had been happy with it earlier – more than happy, actually. It was spacious enough to get around, it had a TV, and all the privacy he could hope for. If he wanted company, all he had to do was leave his door open, just like a college dorm room, but now it felt empty.

He turned off his light, then got undressed in the dark and crawled under his covers. His heart ached and he told himself it was just because he had to leave Yevgeny behind. That was part of the big decision he had made to let Mickey go, but he couldn’t stop thinking of Yevgeny standing on his lap and giving him wet, sloppy kisses and calling him Papa. He allowed himself to fall apart, his soft cries soon replaced by heavier sobs. He wiped his eyes, but the tears continued. He grabbed his phone and looked at a few of the photos he had taken of Yevgeny. After a good ten minutes, he decided enough was enough and closed the photos.

He called Mandy instead. She answered on the first ring.

“Ian? Oh my god, I’m so sorry! Do you hate me?” 


	68. Chapter 68

Ian had settled in nicely to his new place, making many new friends, and learning to use the kitchen and bathrooms with ease. Mandy came to visit him often, as he had decided it was probably a bad idea to go to her house again. They didn’t talk about Mickey, but he was always there on both of their minds. More than once, Ian had been sure he’d seen Mickey at the rehab center, but each time Ian took a second look, there was no one. He told himself to stop being ridiculous – Mickey was working. He brushed it off to wishful thinking, though he didn't actually believe Mickey would ever go there again after his last visit.

The days had grown longer and hotter, and it was getting easier to use the train without the weather to contend with. On his way out the door to an appointment, Ian was surprised to see Svetlana and Yevgeny waiting for him outside the house.

“Svet! What are you doing here?” He happily took Yevgeny in his arms and began peppering kisses all over him.

“Mandy said you had an appointment. I came to see if you wanted a ride.” She pointed at a van behind her and smiled. 

Ian was confused. “Whose car is that?”

“Mine. I bought it with the money I make showing women how to suck a man’s dick the right way.” She winked, making him laugh. 

The truth was, she had come up with the down payment for a car, and probably could have paid for something smaller on her own, but Mickey had insisted she buy a van, arguing that Yevgeny needed one for all his shit. He offered to pay half the payment, making it a viable option, then dropped the bomb she had known would be coming, and asked if she would be interested in getting Ian to and from his appointments. In exchange, he would pay her part of the insurance as well. She put up a good fight, acting as if it was a major inconvenience, but the truth was she had seen it coming a mile away and was happy to do it. She was sad for Mickey and all the disappointment he carried with him, but she understood that Ian had to make certain decisions on his own… but it never hurt to provide opportunities, she thought.

“Dicks, huh?” he asked.

She raised her brow at him, "What? You think you know more about that than me?" She asked, making him blush a little. “I sell toys to rich, bored housewives – but mostly I sell sex - I teach them what to do with the toys that no one else will teach them. I’m good at it. I am making good money. Come.” She opened the van door without waiting for an answer. “How much help do you need?” She knew Ian had progressed enough to standing and taking small steps on his own, and he was perfectly capable of getting into the van because Mickey had told her - but she didn’t mention that to Ian. 

“Oh, it's ok. I shouldn’t. It’s too much trouble.” He tried to hand Yevgeny back to her, “And I really need to get going or I’ll be late.”

She refused to take her son, giving Ian a look that meant he wasn’t being given a choice. “It’s not without strings. It’s… what’s that called? Quiz pro ko, or some shit like that. You wash my hand, I wash yours.”

“Quid pro quo!” Ian laughed. 

“Yes, that. Get in. We’ll talk on the way.”

The Deal, as she outlined for him on the way to the center, was occasional help with her U.S. Naturalization classes. It could be at Ian’s house or someplace in between houses if he wasn’t comfortable coming to her house. After she convinced him of that, she hinted that she could use occasional help with Yevgeny too, because Mickey worked too much and wasn’t always there when she needed him to be. Ian was much more hesitant to that idea, so she dropped it right away, deciding it was something they could work toward. 

“What time are you done?” She asked, holding his chair steady as he moved from the van.

“I’m ok, Svet. Really, I am. I don’t mind helping you, but I need to do this stuff on my own.”

She looked at him exactly as he imagined she looked at Yevgeny any time he was being stubborn and waited for her to call him out by his full name like any mother would when they scold you, but she didn’t.

“Ok. I’ll call you tomorrow and we’ll talk about this schedule then.” She kissed his head and watched him make his way into the center, then sent Mickey a text and reported that Ian would only accept a half ride, and she wasn’t sure if he would take many more.

Mickey: That’s fine. Show up anyway.

“It’s your money.” She said, looking at their son. “Your dada is crazy.” She said, spinning her finger near her head and making a face.


	69. Chapter 69

Mandy and Ian talked again like they had their entire life, and just as they had as teenagers, they left Mickey completely out of the conversation, which made things easy for both of them. Svet and Ian talked several times a week, usually by text, and always on the way to his appointments. He couldn’t argue that it made his life easier, and by the end of their third week together, he told her as much.

“Svet, thanks.” He said quietly. She smiled and reached her hand over and squeezed his. 

“Quid pro quo. We are both getting something, plus Yevgeny gets to see his Papa.” She said completely genuinely.

“Maybe you should stop calling me that?” he said, looking out his window.

She glanced at him, then back at the road, then turned the wheel and pulled the van to the curb and hit him hard on his leg, making him jump!

“Ow!” 

“Oh, can you feel that?” She smacked his leg again, making Ian jump and Yevgeny laugh. She didn’t stop, and soon she began to curse at him too, “You are stupid, stupid fucking idiot! What is wrong with you? Get out of my car! Get out!”

“Svet! Stop!” Now Yevgeny began to cry. Svetlana reached across to push Ian's door open and unbuckled his seatbelt, then proceeded to push on his arm, not making any real effort to throw him from the car. “What are you doing! Ok! I’ll go! I need my chair!”

“Bullshit! You don’t need a chair! You don’t need help! You don’t need anything or anybody, isn’t that right? You can handle all this shit on your own, I know! You keep saying it, and I’m sick of hearing it!” She smacked his leg again. “You need your ass kicked, is what you need!” She said, sitting back in her seat.

Yevgeny was in the back-seat pouting, with tears streaming down his cheek, “Mama!”

“It’s ok, it’s ok. Mama is not mad.” She reached in his bag for a bottle then lowered her voice to a soft soothing sound to calm her son, but spoke to Ian. “You don’t need shit, do you? You have this all figured out. Your new home, with your new handicapped friends who make you feel good about yourself because you can reach the god damn milk in the fridge. You don’t even need me to give you a ride… it’s ok, baby. Mama was just playing. See Papa is ok?” She reached over and kissed Ian’s cheek gently, then smacked the other cheek where Yevgeny wouldn’t see her. 

“Everything in your life is great, Ian. You’ll learn to walk again, and maybe even run, and with any luck at all, you can go back out there and shoot some more bad guys.” She looked at him, “That’s what you want, isn’t it? To get back to killing?”

Ian was speechless. He didn’t understand what had gotten her so upset, but he was equally upset now. He clenched his jaw down tight knowing he could neither scream at her or run, so he stayed quiet.

Yevgeny was finally calm and sucking on a bottle, taking in deep sobs every few seconds. Svet turned her full attention back to Ian. They sat looking at each other for a long time before she spoke again. 

“You’re killing him.” The sadness in her voice was like a punch to Ian’s gut. “If that’s what you wanted, then maybe you should know it’s working.” 

“Who?” Ian asked, knowing damn well who she was talking about. She shook her head disappointed with him.

“I said I would cut your balls off if you weren’t good to my husband.” She said resolutely. “Well, this is not what I call good. Close your door. We’re going to be late now.”

She drove the last half mile to the center without talking. When they arrived at the center, Ian waited for her to bring his chair close so he could get in, anxious to escape. Instead, she walked up and hugged him in his seat before he could get out, leaving him completely confused.

“He loves you.” She said. “He does everything for you, Ian. Everything. He deserves better than this.” She pulled his chair up. When he had his legs secured, she kissed the top of his head as she always did before he left, but held on to the handles of the chair a moment longer. “You don’t need to do all of this alone, you know. That’s what family is for.”

\----- 

Ian sent Svetlana a text later that evening to apologize for being an asshole. He didn’t say if he meant it for her or for Mickey, but he added, “Give Yevy a kiss and tell him Papa said goodnight.”

Svetlana read his text and waited a good long time before she responded, just to make him sweat a bit, then: I have work on Friday afternoon. Can you help with Yevgeny? Mikhailo isn’t home until late.

Ian immediately wanted to say no, but he didn’t dare. He started to ask why Mandy or Nika couldn’t do it, but instead, he said: Sure. You can bring him here. I’ll home all afternoon.

Svetlana: No. It has to be here. It would be hard without his things there. He might get run over by someone’s chair.

She thought about it, then added: Mandy is working so she can’t do it. 

She looked at Mandy sitting on the couch next to her and said, “If Ian asks, you are working late on Friday afternoon.”

Mandy looked at her curiously, “I actually am working late Friday, but why you are trying to get me to lie to him.”

“Because I need a babysitter, and he won’t say yes if he thinks you can do it. Just find something to do after work.”

“Ok.” Mandy said, “How late?”

Svet thought about it, then said, “Maybe seven.” Then sent another text.

Svetlana: it will only be a couple of hours. If you can’t, I will call and cancel work. It’s ok.

Ian was reluctant, but he knew Mickey went straight from one job to another on Fridays and worked late into the night, so there was no chance in running into him at the house. Reluctantly, he agreed.

Svetlana: Good. I’ll pick you up at 4, and have you home in time for dinner. 

Ian started to tell her that he could just call for the handi-van, but then he remembered what had gotten him into this mess in the first place – constantly saying he could take care of himself and that he didn’t need anyone’s help. So instead, he said: See you at 4.

Svet smiled slyly, then sent one more text to Mickey: Don’t forget Friday. Did you get the day off?

Mickey was finishing up on the job site, about to head home when her text came in. He caught Paul as he was getting in his truck, “Hey! Don’t forget, I’m off on Friday.”

Paul nodded, Mickey waved him goodnight, then shot Svet a text to let him know he was all set.

\--

Ian set his phone down and groaned. “Fuck.”

He knew what Svetlana was up to. He knew eventually it was going to happen and was surprised it hadn’t been Mandy to try it first. Regardless, he wasn’t ready yet. He’d thought about what Svetlana had said to him, and he couldn’t even be angry with her, because she had been right about so much of it – possibly all of it. Mickey deserved some kind of explanation from Ian – one that didn’t include Ian making excuses that Mickey’s lifestyle was immature and dangerous, or that Ian’s therapist had told him to take this time to be selfish. There was no reason he could come up with that justified breaking Mickey’s heart, and he knew it.

He opened his phone up and typed in Mickey’s number, but didn’t dial. As he looked at the screen trying to talk himself into pushing the call button, one of his roommates interrupted.

“There you are – we’re gonna put a movie on. There are burgers in the kitchen if you’re hungry. You coming?”

Ian put his phone in his pocket and nodded, then rolled himself into the house. Maybe he’d think about it a little longer, get his head straight. It never paid to make phone calls like that when you were sad and hungry. 

The house was co-ed in the sense that the resident admin was a female – her name was Donna, but everyone called her The Don. She had been a military doctor for more than twenty years, now retired, and never found the time to settle into a marriage with kids during her career. That was the way she liked it, she had told Ian. “Besides, I have all these assholes, and now you, to wipe their asses.” 

The Don saw the look on Ian’s face as he rolled in, “Gallagher. You doing ok?” She said as he passed by.

“Yep. I’m good.” He lied, giving her one of his practiced smiles that never reached his eyes. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be using your walker more? I haven’t seen you get out of that chair all evening. What’s going on? Your legs hurting? Want me to set up an ice bath for you after dinner?”

It hadn’t been his legs as much as his entire spirit that had him down. Ever since talking to Svetlana earlier, all he could think about was setting things right with Mickey – and setting it right really meant goodbye, which they had somehow avoided to this point. He nodded anyway, accepting her offer, then got busy making his food.

There were seven residents currently in the house, but twelve people at the table, which included a few spouses waiting on their husbands to come home, and their kids. Not everyone in the house was military, but enough of them were, so it made easy conversations which were ought to turn into mini-group counseling on a late-night after a few beers. The Don frowned upon drinking at the house, but she enjoyed her beers as much as the rest of them, so she allowed it as long as things stayed peaceful. With drunk, injured, angry men, drinking could go either way.  
Ian picked at his food, offering the obligatory laugh when jokes were made, giving vague answers about his family if someone asked him about his home life, and generally just keeping a bite of food handy in case the conversation dared to turn in his direction. Try as he might, he couldn’t seem to stomach dinner or the conversation, so he finally excused himself from the table and threw his dish away. He made it all the way to his room before The Don came in behind him.

“You ready for that bath now?” She asked. The concern in her voice matched that in her face.

Ian hesitated, “I, uhm… I don’t actually think I need that tonight after all.”

She invited herself to take a seat on his couch and reached for the envelopes on the side table. “Did these just come today? Mail service is shit over there, isn’t it? I swear if you can get 30% of what was sent, that’s a god damned miracle.” She noticed the envelopes were still unopened. Some had crayon scribbles on the back. ‘You got kids? Is that your wife I see around here sometimes, with the little boy?”

Ian nodded. It was easier than explaining the whole messy situation, plus Svet was always giving him hugs and kissing his cheek, so he was sure that’s what everyone assumed to be true.

“She’s pretty. And the blonde? Who is she?” She gave him a sneaky smile, thinking he’d try to lie – she always knew a lie when she heard one – but he didn’t. 

“That’s Mandy – my best friend. I’ve known her, shit… most of my life. I don’t really remember how old I was when we met.” He handed her a photo Lip had given him of him from Halloween when they were ten. He pointed to the two smallest kids in the photo, “That was us.” 

“Holy shit, Gallagher! How did you catch a girl like that with that face?” She laughed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong – you blossomed well, but shit… look at that hair!”

Yeah, whatever. Nothing I haven’t heard before.” He laughed, snatching the photo back.

“Wait! Who are the other two? Let me see that again. Brothers?” 

“Yeah, that’s her brother Iggy. He went as an ax murderer. I’m pretty sure he was covered in real blood but I was too afraid to ask. The ax is real too.”

“Ha! Fucking South side! I love it here – so much better than where I grew up in Wisconsin. And this guy?”  
“That’s Mandy’s other brother, Mickey.” His voice betrayed him.

“Is he ok?” She asked, wondering if the melancholy she’d heard was because something had happened to him.

Ian nodded but didn’t look up. “He’s fine. He’s … uh… he’s married, kid, you know, living the dream.” He took the photo, his eyes on Mickey as he unconsciously ran a finger across his face before putting it back.

There was the lie she was looking for, it just hadn’t been the one she expected. 

“Well, I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. We’re gonna be starting a movie in a bit. Finish up here and come join us. And use the walker. I wanna see how your new legs are working.” She winked at him before leaving.

Ian pulled his wheelchair close to the wall where the walker was waiting for him. He hated it. He had hated the chair too, but he'd gotten used to it; grown complacent to the idea of needing it; but the walker was just another reminder of the challenging journey he did not want to be on.

He eyed it hatefully, half expecting it to jump up and start boxing with him, after all, that was exactly what had happened the last time he tried using it - he was left lying flat on his face, bruised ribs, broken confidence, and his recently broken collarbone aching for days. He fucking hated it.

"All right, bitch. Let's take you for a spin." He unfolded it, then carefully pulled himself up to a standing position. When his legs were solidly beneath him, he smiled triumphantly, then inched it forward, scooting his right leg along. The left obeyed more easily. Both wiggled a little beneath him, but they felt strong enough to hold him. He took a few steps to the door, then decided he would give The Don a little piece of mind and walked right out of his door toward the crowded dining area.

"Hey! If it isn't Lieutenant Dan!" Someone yelled out as he came closer, sending the group into uproarious laughter. "Look at those gams!" "Damn, Gallagher, I didn't know you were so tall!" "You standing on stilts?" "Throw some roller blades on that boy, and let's get him moving!"they called out encouragingly, bringing a genuine smile to Ian's face as he took it all in proudly.

The Don smiled back at him, nodding and clapping her encouragement. Ian lifted one hand carefully and flipped everyone off before making his way to the back patio where he collapsed, exhausted, into a lawn chair.

Feeling pretty damn good about himself, and a bit more confident, he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened to Mickey’s contact again, telling himself ‘It’s just about babysitting… it’s the right thing to do, so Mickey doesn’t feel blindsided.’ This time, without hesitating, he pushed the call button.


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Epj84QVw2rc

Mickey was sitting in line at a drive-thru waiting to order when his phone rang. 

“What?” He answered impatiently.

“Uh... Is this a bad time?” Ian asked. He wondered if Mickey was still mad at him, and all his confidence dissolved.

Mickey pulled the phone from his ear and saw Ian’s name. The line of cars moved forward, and in his unexpected confusion, he put his car into neutral, then gunned the engine. “Shit! Hold on.” He put it in back in first gear and inched forward. “Ian? Everything ok?”

Ian couldn’t remember. If it hadn’t been for hearing his name just then, he probably wouldn’t remember that either. What had he been thinking to call Mickey! His stomach flitted with butterflies and he lost all his words… all of them! 

Mickey looked at his phone again to see if the call had dropped. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mickey,” Ian said, pulling it together and trying to remind himself that it wasn’t a social call. It was business… sort of. “I was just… did I wake you up?”

Mickey wanted to pull out of the drive-thru line and find a place to talk to Ian, but he couldn’t pull forward or back. “Oh come the fuck on!” He complained, holding the mouthpiece away from him, but Ian heard that too, and again thought it was for him. “No, not sleeping. What’s going on, Gallagher?”

Gallagher… uh god… not a good sign. Usually, Gallagher was reserved for Mickey’s-wired-up moments. Ian decided to just get to the point.

“So, Svet texted.” No response, which was to be expected considering he and Svet texted often and Mickey knew it. Ian didn’t even feel bad about it, since Mickey had once told him that they would probably be great friends, and he hadn’t been wrong. Ian cleared his throat, “Anyway, she asked if I could babysit for her. At your house.“ Still no reply. “On Friday.” He added. 

Fucking meddling bitch, Mickey thought, shaking his head, but saying nothing.

“Anyway, I didn’t know if you knew I was… I mean, I thought I should tell you, you know, in case she was trying to Shanghai one of us.” He chuckled, hoping to make light of it, but Mickey didn’t sound like he was in on the joke. “I don’t have to. I could tell her no if you want me to.”

The drive-thru line finally moved forward.

“Is that all you called for?” Mickey asked. Unfuckingbelievable.

The answer was a solid NO, but Ian didn’t say that. Again, he didn’t say anything, and Mickey was all out of patience.

“Ian, I just got off work. I’m fucking hungry and tired, and I don’t have time for this bullshit. If Svet wants you to go to the house, then go to the fucking house. I don’t give a shit.”

“Ok,” Ian said, sounding small, but he didn’t say goodbye. “Mick?”

“What?” he grumbled, then pulled his car to the drive-thru window. “Fuck, just hold on a sec.”

Ian listened as he exchanged payment for food. He waited even longer as he waited for Mickey to come back on the line.

Mickey tossed his order into the seat next to him, forgetting his appetite, and pulled out into traffic headed away from his house, and toward Ian’s. He took a quick look in his mirrors for cops, then hit his gas, and went back to his phone call.

“All right. It’s your dime. What’s on your mind?” Mickey asked, now getting concerned. He kept an eye out for cops and continued in and out of traffic until he was within blocks of Ian’s house.

Ian didn’t know what to say. He’d already said what he had called for, or at least what his excuse for calling had been, but there was so much more he wanted to tell Mickey. He wanted to tell Mickey that his house and life weren’t conducive to Ian’s recovery, and put it all back on Mickey, but the truth was Ian would sleep on the floor the rest of his days if it meant being close to Mickey. Hell, he’d sleep in the yard! But fear or pride or the determination to prove to himself that he was not fucking handicapped and could handle this shit on his own had deluded his vision, so he couldn’t find those words either. So, he said the only thing he could.

“I’m sorry.”

They both stayed quiet. Mickey killed his headlights and crept his car up Ian’s street slowly so the growl of his engine wouldn’t be heard. He parked several houses away and cut his engine.

“I don’t know how to… I’m… “ Ian’s voice cracked, “I’m scared.”

“I know. Me too.” Mickey said. He’d watched Ian struggling day after day in his therapy sessions. Sometimes they were both moved to tears, either from the pain Ian was enduring or the frustration, but lately, it had been from victories too. There were tears, but Ian fought through them, good or bad.

“I fell…” Ian cleared his throat and wiped at his eyes, “I was trying to walk, and I fell, and fucked up my shoulder and my face.”

Mickey knew about that already. Svet reported everything to him when he couldn’t be there himself.

“And I hit my head trying to get out of the tub the other day. Had a headache for two fucking days.” His voice shook when he talked, and Mickey cried with him. Then he broke completely as he stuttered out the next words, “Yevy slipped off my lap the other day, and I couldn’t catch him. I could have hurt him, Mick… I’m so sorry.” 

Mickey had his hand on the handle of the door, wanting to run to Ian, but he had already run to Ian and learned it was the wrong thing to do.

“You’ll learn. Ian, did you hear me? You’ll learn how to do all of that shit. And I fucking drop Yevy all the time. That kid never sits still.” He laughed, trying to lighten the mood. 

“I missed my train home today because the elevator was out,” Ian added. He cleared his throat, then laughed a little feeling dumb for crying. “Fuck… I can’t do shit right. I can’t even find a place to live without fucking stairs. I might as well just move home or I’m gonna end up in some shitty apartment on the North side with an elevator.”

“Fuck the North Side!” Mickey yelled. He wiped both his eyes dry. 

“I’m scared, Mickey,” Ian said quietly. “What if I can’t do this?”

“You can.”

“The other day I took ten fucking steps holding on to something and I thought I was some kind of fucking superhero, you know? I mean, fuck! This is my life, and I’m no superhero!” he said. “Shit… what if this is my life?”

Mickey got out of his car and jogged past the houses to Ian’s. 

“Then it’s your fucking life, man. We all have shit to deal with.”

Ian nodded. Mickey was right – everyone had their weight to bear and this was his. 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Mickey entered the front door without knocking and heard the talking from the dining area. He knew Ian wasn’t calling from there, so he ran past without anyone even noticing him and looked in and out of each door he came across, looking for Ian.

“Listen, I’m sorry I called and dumped this shit on you. I just…” he held back the urge to say he missed him. “I thought you should know about Friday. I’ll let you go. Bye, Mick.”

“Ian, don’t han-“ but it was too late. Ian hung up.

Mickey stood at the end of the hallway, having looked in every room.

“Hi, can I help you?”

He turned to find a brute of a woman looking back at him, looking like she was ready to take him on.

“I’m looking for Ian.”

He was taller, but still the same boy she had seen in the photo earlier. 

“You must be Mickey, right? He’s out back.” She said, pointing to the patio, but Mickey was already gone.

Ian closed his phone, caught his breath, and silently cursed himself for dumping his shit on Mickey. He pulled himself up on his walker, ready for sleep. He started his slow journey, looking up, at last, to see Mickey watching him.

“Mickey. You’re here.” Ian had never seen anyone or anything so beautiful in all his life.

“I’m here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=oHm227OFUdw&feature=share


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m_9hfHvQSNo

There would be all the time they needed for talking later, but the only thing Mickey wanted that night was to have Ian home with him. Ian was back in his chair, moving fast to throw as much of his things in a black plastic bag, telling The Don he’d be back for the rest the next day. She just stood by the door smiling happily for him as Mickey ran to pull his car up for Ian. 

Ian had so many questions when they arrived, primarily why Mickey was taking him into the wrong house, but all of that could wait too. They had barely made it into the house when Mickey took Ian’s plastic bag and threw it to the side, then pushed Ian through the dark house to the bedroom. All he had wanted to do after work was to eat and sleep, but he couldn’t remember either of those at the moment. Now all he wanted was to lay naked in the dark next to Ian, even if nothing else happened.

Plenty happened. Like Ian’s belongings back at the group home or his many questions, sleep would wait. Even limited as he was, Ian managed to make use of the whole king size bed Mickey had been sleeping in all alone those many months, drinking in every touch, and kiss, and breath he could steal from Mickey. How had he thought for a minute that he could live without him? Already, all the things he couldn’t do seemed irrelevant to the fact that he could hold Mickey in his arms for the rest of his life, and it would be enough.

They finally fell asleep, entangled from lips to toes, both of them sleeping soundly until Mickey’s alarm went off. Mickey unlatched himself from Ian’s arm gently, trying not to wake him, as he turned the alarm off, but Ian woke the second there was space between them.

“Where’re you going?” He asked, pulling Mickey close again.

Mickey took his phone with him, “Give me a sec.” He typed out a message to his boss, then tossed his phone behind him, missing the table completely. “Nowhere.”

Ian pulled him in for a kiss which heated up quickly, but the call of nature got his attention. He pulled away from the kiss, then looked around in the dark, and suddenly his physical limitations came back.

“I gotta piss.” He said.

“Oh, ok. Do you want your chair? Or you just want me to help you? Bathrooms there.” Mickey said, jumping from the bed for Ian’s chair.

Ian got into the chair on his own, “No, I can do it.” He said, a little concerned that maybe he couldn’t. Not if the bathroom was anything like Svetlana’s. 

He rolled to the door, hoping not to hit anything on the floor, and pleasantly surprised when he made it all the way there without running over a single shoe or an entire load of laundry. Impressive. 

He turned the corner and was greeted by a blue under glow of lights that lit the floor from the baseboard, making it unnecessary to turn on the light, but Ian did anyway. He stopped just inside the door, completely shocked at what he was looking at.

“Mickey?” He rolled forward, with plenty of space on either side of him. There was a large tub, big enough for him to fit comfortably to soak. The shower opened to the rest of the room with no lip to step over to enter. All he needed to do was roll his chair in, though the next thing he noticed was it already had a built-in bench. Both the tub and the shower had handrails that he could use as well.

Mickey came in, now dressed in a pair of boxers, and watched nervously as Ian looked around. He worried at his bottom lip and waited for Ian to say something.

“Is this a midget sink?” Ian asked, laughing. It wasn’t lost on him that it was a perfect height from his chair.

“I wasn’t sure if you could use the standard size, so…” Mickey said. “We can change it out though. I mean, we will, once you’re out of your chair, ok?”

It was all more than Ian could have asked for. He pressed his hands into his eyelids but started crying anyway.

“Oh fuck… Ian!” Mickey ran to him, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands from his face. “No… no, don’t do that. This wasn’t supposed to make you upset.”

Ian pulled Mickey to him and kissed him, then laughed. “I just… this is incredible. How did you do this?”

“I had some help,” Mickey said, happy to see Ian smiling. He looked down at Ian’s flaccid dick, just inches from his face, “You cold?” He asked, chuckling, and making Ian burst out laughing. 

“A little,” Ian admitted.

Mickey got up from the floor and left him to do his business. Ian took his time, not sliding from chair to stool as he had been used to, but instead taking his time to grab hold of the handrails on each side of the toilet so that he could stand up while he took a piss.


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R_aqe1wu7eE...

The sun was just peeking through the bedroom blinds when Ian went back into the room. Mickey, already half-dressed, tossed him a pair of sweats.

“Put those on.”

“Aw, I thought we were…” He made crude gestures with his hands, poking one finger in and out of his thumb and forefinger shaped like a circle. Mickey rolled his eyes. “What about…” Ian pumped a fist in front of his open mouth, then gave Mickey a great big cheesy grin. 

“You’re fucking five, you know that?” Mickey laughed. “Later. Come on.” 

Ian pulled the sweats up to his thighs, “Uhm, Mickey. Can you…” 

“Oh, yeah, sure. What do you need me to do?” He stepped in front of Ian, reaching under his arms to help pull him up, but it was clumsy and awkward.

“How about you just stand there, and put your arm out like this. Good, just like that.” 

Mickey braced himself, as Ian used his arm to pull himself up, then each of them grabbed one side of the sweats and pulled them up. He hadn’t seen Ian get himself ready for the day or after sessions at the rehab center, so he hadn't thought to ask what Ian needed for the bedroom.

“We’ll grab some more bars and shit, and install them on the wall by the closet and the bed. Just let me know what else we need, ok?”

“Mickey, no. This is already too much.” Ian situated himself back in his chair.

“I’m not asking. Just make a list, and I’ll do it this week, otherwise, I’m just gonna buy shit that won’t even help. And don’t give me that look. It’s a couple of bolts. Not a big deal. When you don’t need them anymore, I can take ‘em out and spackle right over it.” Without waiting for Ian to protest, he led the way out of the bedroom to show Ian the rest of the house.

“It’s basically just like the other half, but the doors are wider, but check this out.” He opened the pantry door and pulled out a rolling step stool. “When Lip showed up with this, I told him you’d break your neck with it, but he said he got it from the medical office at college. See – you sit here, and you can just push your way around the room.” He sat in the seat and gave a push with one leg. “Just like that. You can get all over the house at the same height as standing. Well, me standing, not you. Anyway, it’ll make it easier if you want to cook or get shit from the cupboards.” 

He jumped from the seat and rolled in in front of him, “Plus, it has these two steps so that I can reach shit in the top cupboards too.” He chuckled and his own expense, then added sternly, “You stay off the ladder.”

He pushed the seat against the wall and continued his tour. 

“The washer and dryer are back there. We gotta get that step fixed though, so just say out of there until I figure out how to do that. If you need to do laundry, just let me or Svet know. Fuck, tell Mandy to do it. She doesn’t do a god damn thing around here anyway.”

Ian watched Mickey opening cupboards and drawers to show him where everything went with pride. Lip wasn’t kidding when he said Mickey had come a long way from who he had been just years before. Mickey led him to the living room, pointing out the two bedroom doors.

“That’s Yevy’s room, and this one…” He opened the door and let Ian roll in first. The room was the smallest of the three bedrooms, but perfect to fit a few pieces of workout equipment and a weight bench. 

“That was in the cellar of my old house. Think it belonged to Tony or Colin… maybe even Terry. Dead fucker. It’s old as shit, but we got it all cleaned up and bought a few missing pins, so when you’re home you can work out here. Plus, I picked up some of these.” 

He grabbed a box that had different colored resistance bands in them, just as he had seen Ian using in the gym at the center. “I couldn’t remember which ones you needed, so I just bought a variety.” He tossed the box aside and went to the closet to show Ian the yoga ball Fiona had sent over, but before he could pull it out, Ian spoke up.

“Mickey, how did you know I use those bands?”

Mickey bit at his lip, trying to think of an answer. “Uh, Svet probably mentioned it.”

“No, she didn’t. I never told her.”

“I don’t know! Fuck, maybe Mandy. What difference does it make?” He said sourly, forgetting the yoga ball in the closet. He walked out of the room, hoping Ian would follow and leave the questions behind. Ian did just that, smiling at his sneaky boyfriend, now absolutely positive it had been Mickey he’d seen at the center.

Mickey continued the tour as if nothing had happened, “That’s the bathroom. Same one. I just cut the wall out between them and made it bigger.” Then he turned to the dining room/living room, where the only furniture was a couch and a TV. “And this…” suddenly all the work he’d completed on the house seemed insignificant as he looked around at his very empty house, hardly a cozy home for Ian to come to. “Shit. I should probably buy some furniture.”

Ian reached for his hand. Once again, he was speechless at everything Mickey had done in just a matter of a few short months. He couldn’t even begin to think about how much it had cost, and knew if he asked, Mickey would shrug it off and tell him not to worry about it.

“How did you do all of this?”

Mickey thought about it, slowly shaking his head, “I don’t fucking know.” 

He just knew it needed to be done, so he had worked around the clock, two construction jobs, and occasional collections for Colin; and when he wasn’t doing one of those three things, he was at home ripping down walls and learning how to install new plumbing pipes. Thank god for Colin and Tony, who both had years of experience and didn’t cuss him out for calling them at 1 in the morning when he needed to know how to use a miter saw.

He leaned over and kissed Ian, grateful that every second of sleep he had lost in worry and work had finally paid off. 

“Come on.” He went back to the kitchen and slid open a pocket door that led to Svetlana’s kitchen. He could hear her shower going, but there was no sign of Yevy yet, so he spoke quietly. “There. Now you live with the Bitches too.” He closed the door again and said, “Or, as I prefer, we don’t. I keep it locked just so Yevy doesn’t wander away without Svet seeing him. When he’s bigger it can stay unlocked, but that little shit is getting into everything lately.”

He looked at Ian, who was beaming. “That’s the tour. You got an empty house, a rolling chair, and 3 bitches who don’t know how to fucking knock when they come over, even though I keep telling them to. What? Stop smiling at me, it’s freaking me out.”

He turned to walk away, but Ian grabbed his arm, pulling him down to his lap and kissed him. After a good long minute of making out, Ian pulled back and looked at Mickey.

“Did you gain weight?”

“Huh?” Mickey looked at him, horrified. “The fuck does that mean?”

Ian squeezed one of his ass cheeks and Mickey jumped up, taking a few quick steps away, “Don’t fucking pinch my ass after you tell me I’m fucking fat!” He flipped Ian off and took off to the bedroom with Ian in pursuit.

“Come on, Mickey! I still think you’re hot! Wait up!” He reached the room and Mickey was already pulling his sweats off and kicking them to the wall. 

“You want it?” he asked, wiggling his brows and smacking his own ass, making Ian laugh. God, it was good to see Ian laughing again, he thought. “Too bad! That’s Prime Cut, my friend! Look at that ass! You wish you had an ass like that.” 

He got up on the bed, kneeling and wiggling his ass, as Ian got closer. Ian locked the wheels on his chair and watched Mickey with determination in his eyes. 

“Come and get it, bitch… calling me fucking fat…” 

Ian eased his feet from the braces and found his footing on the floor, then he grabbed hold of the arms of the chair and slowly pushed himself up, feeling his legs wobble precariously. 

“Ian, no! You’re gonna get hurt.” Mickey warned, but Ian moved slow, a willful look in his eyes as he continued to stretch himself upright, standing without assistance. The bed was only one step away. Mickey wanted to grab him, but the look in Ian’s eyes said it all – he was looking to earn himself a Prime Cut dinner – so Mickey changed his tune. He grabbed his own dick and started stroking it nice and slow.

“Got a fucking badass on our hands… you want this?” He stretched his dick in his hand, feeling it getting harder, then wiggled it around, a devious grin brightening his face. “One step. You can do it. I’ll catch you if you fall.”

Ian was standing firmly, no wiggle, no shake. He knew if he stepped with his left leg, his right might give out, so he lifted his right leg just a skosh off the floor, and moved it forward several inches, before setting it down again. His face lit up, and Mickey threw his arms in the air and screamed!

“Oh my god! Do it again!” He reached his hand out now so Ian could take hold, and waited.

Ian shifted his weight to the other side and brought his left leg forward to meet the right, then daringly moved it forward again, completing a full step. 

‘HOLY FUCKING SHIT!” Mickey didn’t even wait for him to ask for help. He moved forward and grabbed Ian and threw him onto the bed. 

“I’m so fucking hot right now, bitch. Get those sweats off!” Mickey started yanking them away, climbing right up on top of Ian when they were removed. 

Ian couldn’t stop laughing, the excitement of him having taken a full step without any assistance overwhelming him. His eyes filled with moisture that threatened to leak, but he didn’t even notice. He was too busy enjoying the way Mickey was straddling his hips and kissing his body as he made his way up to Ian’s lips.

Ian wrapped his arms around Mickey, holding him tight as they kissed, running his hands up and down his back. What started out heated and hungry, turned into something new. 

“I fucking love you, Mickey.” He said desperately.

“I love you,” Mickey replied, kissing him tenderly. 

Their hearts were beating hard and fast, but their bodies were moving slowly as they stretched themselves along the other’s body, remembering everything old and everything new. Mickey ran his fingers gently along the stitches and the scars that held Ian together, kissing them, leaving warm breaths of air on his skin as he went, committing each new part of Ian to memory just had he’d done so many years ago. 

Ian watched him move, his fingers in Mickey’s hair, along his neck, down his back – the inhibitions and fears he’d been holding onto now gone, making him feel a little ridiculous for not trusting Mickey to love him, even broken. He closed his eyes and soaked it all in – the bites, the licks, the squeezes – as Mickey made his way lower, suckling and kissing away every tiny pink stitch that now lined Ian’s long legs. There were so many. Mickey sat up and pushed Ian’s thighs open, running his palms along the inside of them and squeezing the lean muscles, so much thinner than before, but fucking strong enough to take two steps, and that was more than enough. 

“Come here.” He said. He pulled Ian closer to the edge of the bed, then put a pillow behind him, “Lay down.” 

He got down on his knees in front of Ian and began stroking his dick, running his nose and wet lips behind his fingers as he went. He slipped his lips over the tip, and took Ian in, inch by inch, deeper and deeper. Ian lifted his head off the pillow to watch, pressing Mickey’s head down with each suck. Mickey’s thick, pink lips stretched around Ian’s dick was as sight to see. Ian pushed hard, and Mickey took him in, gagging, but not pulling off, keeping one hand moving behind his lips and the other pulling playfully at Ian’s balls. Mickey could do that all day long, but Ian knew he couldn’t last long if he kept watching. He put his head back down and closed his eyes, trying only to focus on the touch, but the sounds and the feel of Mickey beneath his fingers were too much. He was edging, and at that rate, he wouldn’t last long.

“Mickey! Mickey, wait…” 

Mickey pressed down again and held, then sucked hard as he pulled up again ever so slowly. He let his tongue swirl the tip of Ian’s dick like a lollipop, then *pop!* pulled his mouth off him completely, giving Ian a few seconds to recover. While Ian caught his breath, Mickey searched the floor for the lube Svetlana had given him. He squirt a generous amount onto his fingers and reached back and began massaging himself open.

“You good?” He asked Ian. 

Ian’s smile was answer enough. He reached down and stroked himself while Mickey prepped. Prepping Mickey was one of Ian’s favorite past times, and if repairing his own body just so that he could complete that task any time he wanted to wasn’t motivation enough, Ian just didn’t know what was. Mickey finished by pushing Ian’s hand away and rubbing the remaining lube on his fingers onto Ian’s dick, then he took his rightful place on Ian’s throne.

He spread his legs wide, pulling at one cheek as he positioned himself just right, then he sat down onto Ian, slow and steady, letting out a satisfied moan.

Ian had both hands at Mickey’s waist and pressed him down even harder, making Mickey wince with pleasure. Ian sat up, their bodies prone, and Mickey fell into the perfect little pocket of his lap. They began to move together, kissing and grinding. Mickey’s thick thighs working overtime to ride Ian like a rodeo bull. He was in a mid-moan as Ian pushed him down hard onto his dick when 

“Dada! Dada Dada Dada!”

“Shit!” Mickey pulled the sheet up from the bed and threw it around the back of his waist, trying to cover himself as Yevgeny came wobbling in. “Svet!” 

Ian started laughing, his dick sending jolts into Mickey as he did. He was holding Mickey close, trying to help hold the sheet in place, but Yevgeny was pulling at it, growing even more excited once he saw his Papa on the bed as well. Yevgeny yanked at the sheet, laughing with Ian, and reaching his baby hands up, opening and closing his little fists, begging to be picked up.

“God damn it! SVETLANA! Can you get your ass in here please?”

It was too late now – Ian was pulling Yevgeny up onto the bed with one free hand, including him in the very awkward group hug, making sure there was plenty of sheet between the three of them. Yevgeny was smacking his face, as he always did, leaving slobbering kisses everywhere. Mickey tried to move, but Ian held him tight and shook his head.

“That’s a bad idea. Don’t you dare move unless you want your kid to learn a fast lesson about the birds and the bees.” He warned, rocking Mickey on him once more.

Svetlana finally came in the room holding a small shoe she had been looking for under Mickey’s couch, completely oblivious to the fact that he was home on a workday. 

“What are you do-“ She spied Ian’s red hair and screamed with joy! “Aaaauuuhhh! Yessss!” Then she realized the situation they were in and started laughing with Ian.

“Can you stop fucking laughing and get this damn kid out of here?” Mickey yelled impatiently.

She came to them quickly, taking hold of her reluctant son, but before she left, she grabbed Ian by the hair and pulled his face over to kiss his head.

“Welcome home.” She laughed, then quickly left the room, leaving Mickey miffed and Ian incredibly entertained by it all. 

After a few seconds, Mickey began pushing the sheet away as if he planned to escape, but Ian stopped him and began grinding into him again, trying to salvage what he could of his softening dick.

Mickey looked at him incredulously, “Did you just fucking kiss my wife, with your dick up my ass?” Ian nodded happily. “And now you think you can fuck me?” 

"Come on, Mickey! I was so close!" 

Ian jutted up hard, bouncing Mickey and making him groan. “Aaah shit! Yeah, ok… I’m good.” Mickey said, and without further argument, they got back to business.


	73. Chapter 73

MANDY: I thought I understood what love was supposed to be. With Lip, it felt like love for a long time. Most of the other couples I’d know were a lot like me and Lip – it was good until it wasn’t, and then people just let things fall apart. But with Ian and Mickey, it was… I don’t know – it was like watching one of those old married couples you see shuffling hand in hand in the grocery store, or sitting at the DMV, doing the most mundane activity, but holding on to each other like they can’t stand to be apart for even a second. They still fought, they laughed, they sat in comfortable silence, and sometimes they threw coffee cups at the others head, missing by a long shot but getting their points across none the less. 

Ian and Mickey were barely old enough to wipe their own asses, more less that of their kid, but when I watched them, I saw them like that old couple. They bickered constantly – so much that me and Svet were always telling them to shut the fuck up – but the minute one of us picked either of their sides of the argument, the other came to the rescue…

\------ 

“Christ, you have shit everywhere. Fucking worse than the kid!”

“It’s a fucking pair of boxers, asshole. Bend your ass over and pick ‘em up.” Mickey said, not bothering to look up from his phone. He constantly left his shit everywhere knowing Ian would have to figure it the fuck out if he wanted to keep the floor cleaned. Ian had graduated from the chair to his walker full time and was slowly working on using that less and less, so between him and the wobbly toddler, a clean floor was a must. Mickey looked over just in time to see Ian tossing the underwear into the kitchen trash can. “Motherfucker!” he jumped from his chair and retrieved his underwear from the trash, flipping Ian off as he left the room to put them in the laundry.

“You do this shit on purpose!” He carefully bent and grabbed a shoe from under their new kitchen table, giving Mandy an evil eye as she chuckled at them. Everyone knew Mickey did that shit on purpose, but no one actually said it. 

“Why are you looking at me like I’m the asshole? I put my shit away – go have a chat with your boyfriend over there.” She said defensively.

“He’s not an asshole,” Ian grumbled, throwing the shoe across the room toward the front door. 

Mickey heard Ian defending him as he came back into the room. He flipped Mandy off and pulled Ian in for a quick kiss, the tiff already forgotten. “What time’s the guy coming?” 

The Guy was Lieutenant Wakefield. He’d been in contact with Ian for months as the Army continued their snail-paced investigation of the ‘incident,’ trying to determine if Johnson abandoned his team during a firefight. Ian hated all of it. Johnson had, after all, saved his life – there was no question about it. If it hadn’t been for Johnson, Ian would have died in Afghanistan, but there was much more to the story than that one incident. Apparently, Johnson had previously gone missing for several days before they deployed. He was facing possible charges, and Ian had been asked to give a deposition on the matter. 

Ian looked at his watch, “’Bout twenty minutes. I need to jump in the shower.” 

He looked around the house, which by past Milkovich standards was sparkling clean, and decided it was good enough for company. Mandy took that as her cue to leave and grabbed her glass from the coffee table, holding it up in front of Mickey and Ian as she passed, “See… cleaning my own shit.”

Mickey wasn’t sure if he was supposed to stay or go, but decided if he couldn’t be there, then he would just hang out at Svetlana’s for a bit. Ian headed for the bathroom and started the shower.

“Mickey, can you grab my jeans from the dryer?”

They moved around each other in practiced movements, Mickey laying out clothes on the bed, then joining Ian in the shower, giving him plenty of space to move in any direction he needed to. When they were done, Mickey grabbed each of them a towel, tossing one to Ian, and waiting as Ian used the handrails on the wall to make his slow walk back to the room. Mickey used deodorant, then tossed it to the bed. Mickey grabbed socks, tossing the extra pair to the bed. Mickey found shirts in the closet, holding each of them up until Ian nodded, then tossed it to the bed. 

“Wait, no. The blue one.” Ian said, changing his mind.

“No, I’m wearing the blue one.”

“It’s my fucking shirt.” He said, making a ‘gimme’ motion with his hand. Mickey took the blue shirt off the hanger and threw it over his own head, laughing as Ian cursed at him.

“You want it, come take it, bitch.” He slipped on a pair of jeans, waiting for Ian to come at him. Before Ian had a chance, the doorbell rang. 

“Finish. I’ll grab it.” Mickey said, taking a quick peek in the mirror and brushing his hair back with his fingers.

Ian finished getting dressed, listening to the conversation between the Lieutenant and Mickey. It was easy and familiar – that of two people who had become comfortable with each other, no doubt during very difficult days. When he got to the living room, the two men were sitting with cold beers in hand, and the lieutenant was dressed casually in jeans and a button-up shirt.

“Ian! You’re looking quite healthy! It’s good to see you walking about.” 

Every step was still a struggle, even with the walker, but Ian’s motivation to recover had increased tenfold once he moved home. Mickey never coddled him, but was there, just as he said he would be, to catch him if he fell, and so progress had come quickly. They talked for a bit, catching up on the social subjects before getting down to real business.

“Well, as you can see, I’m actually off duty right now,” the Lieutenant said, pointing at his attire. “I have a bit of news, hopefully good, but that’s up to you, I supposed.”

He went on to tell Ian that the charges against Johnson had been dropped. He had returned to normal duty without further penalty, partly thanks to Ian’s previous interviews, but Ian could tell there was more. The Lieutenant pulled a file from his bag, which had Gallagher, Ian stamped across the top.

“I wanted to come talk to you myself about this next thing. It can be a difficult decision to make, and you’re a bit of a unique situation, so…” He opened the file and took out a thick envelope.

“Should I leave?” Mickey asked, not sure if the discussion was any of his business. The Lieutenant looked to Ian, who immediately grabbed Mickey’s hand and shook his head. They both sat anxiously, wondering what news the Lieutenant had. The meeting was only supposed to be about Johnson as far as they were told.

“I have your medical records here; All the test results, and blood work, couple MRIs… you’ve been through the wringer these past eight months, haven’t you?” Ian appreciated the matter-of-fact tone without sympathy. “Well, Uncle Sam has decided that you have qualified for an honorable discharge from your duties, should you decide to take it. It comes with full disability – “ He held the envelope up, “Got all that here if that’s the route you want to take. Of course, this is a choice only you get to make.” He looked at Mickey, a reminder that returning to service was Ian’s choice alone to make.

“What would I be doing if I go back?” Ian asked. He tightened his fingers around Mickey’s.

“Well, eventually, depending on your physical abilities, you could potentially go back to your old job. That could take some time before you could pass those physicals. Until then, you’d probably get some kind of desk duty. Might not be here in Chicago though – you should know that. Anyway, you don’t need to make this decision today. Give it a few days, think about it, and then we can go from there.”

He put the envelope back into the file, then tucked the whole thing away.

Mickey knew Ian was going stir crazy, not working someplace. He had used the argument that Mickey could quit one of his jobs if he had a job of his own, but Mickey was having no part of it. Now it was Ian’s decision to make, and Mickey's heart sunk at the idea of him choosing the military again.

The lieutenant was saying how good it was to see them both again, about to say his goodbyes, when Ian spoke up.

“I want to take the discharge.” He said. Mickey looked at him, surprised.

“Ian? You sure about that?” He asked. “Take the desk job, if you want it. You’ll get stronger, and get back to other work sooner than you think.” Mickey was as shocked as anyone to hear those words come from his own mouth. He had dreaded this day, but now that it was there, he wasn’t about to stand in Ian’s way of his dream.

Ian looked at him and nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. Can we get this done today, or is it something I have to wait on?”

The Lieutenant sat again and took Ian’s file out again. “I have everything today. Your discharge orders just need to be signed by your COs.” He laid a few pages out in front of Ian. “You and I can sign today. Mickey, can you witness for us?”

Mickey waited, then looked to Ian once more before signing, just to make sure it was the decision he wanted for himself. Ian nodded and Mickey signed. 

The Lieutenant put the papers back in order, then pulled the envelope out again. “This is some information on your benefits and pay –“

“Benefits and pay?” Ian asked. Of course, he knew he would be getting ongoing medical, but the pay had been questionable. 

“You qualified for 100% disability.” From the look Ian was giving, the Lieutenant could see he needed to give him a little more. “You will be getting your full income… for the rest of your life.”

“What?!” Ian exclaimed. “You sure about that?”

The Lieutenant held his hand up and shook his head, “Actually, that’s wrong. I’m sorry. It’s actually E-7 pay grade on potential. Everything’s in here. You can take a look at it and call me if you have questions.”

Mickey looked at Ian who was looking a little white around the gills as he said his goodbyes to the Lieutenant. When it was just the two of them again, Ian sat on the couch and said, “Oh shit.”

“Ian, it’s no big deal. The money doesn’t matter, ok?” He said, trying to console Ian. 

“Mickey, yes, it is.”

“We get by fine. Fuck ‘em if they cut your pay. I didn’t think you were gonna get shit anyway.” 

Ian looked Mickey in the eye and laughed. “Mick, they didn’t cut my pay. They tripled it.”

“Oh shit.”


	74. Chapter 74

2 YEARS LATER

MANDY: I learned a lot in those three years living with my brother and his weird fucking little family. Ian went back to school to become a physical therapist. He still has another year to go, but he’s already started working at the same rehab center that taught him to walk again. Mickey finally quit his day job and took Colin up on that permanent position with his company instead. Every time we turn around, he’s ripping apart the house and changing shit – ‘practice’ he says, but I think he just wants to create something beautiful for the people he loves. Mickey doesn’t say it often, but his love for his family is everything to him. 

The sister wives are still hanging on by a thread, bickering more than the boys do lately, but I think that has more to do with Svet’s raging hormones than anything else. I’ll say this for Svetlana, I definitely wasn’t her biggest fan when she first arrived on the scene, but just like Mickey, there were many layers to her tough outer shell. Once I broke through that, I fell in love with her, just like Ian, just like Nika, and whether he’ll admit it or not, just like my asshole brother. She can be a Class A Bitch, but she’s the best mother I’ve ever known, and the best ex-sister in law a girl could ask for. 

As for me… for the first time in my life, I learned how to be a part of a real family, fucked up and confusing as ours is, it’s still pretty damn great. I met a guy. Mickey hated him right off the bat, so I already knew he was probably a good guy! Ian loved him, and that was all I needed. We moved into our own place a few months ago, which was perfect timing because with a new baby on the way, I’m pretty positive Mickey was about to serve me eviction papers anyway. I’m going over to paint the nursery for Svet as soon as she can settle on a color. 

\------ 

Ian sat straddled across Mickey’s lower back, massaging the tight muscles in his thighs, the perks of having a trained almost-physical therapist in the house. 

“We can’t keep putting this off, Ian. Svet’s gonna pop any day, and that room can’t smell like paint.” Mickey mumbled into his pillow. He pushed himself up and pulled Ian onto the bed where he could argue with him face to face. 

Ian huffed impatiently, scrubbing his hands down his face, “I know.” 

Mickey waited, but Ian didn’t say anything more. “What’s this about? You know, this is happening, right? Even if we don’t get the rooms painted, that baby is coming. I mean, the deed is done. In a few weeks, we’re gonna have a crying, shitting, wiggling little baby girl, and I plan on keeping her even if you change your mind.”

Ian laughed, “I’m not changing my mind, dummy. It's just – “ 

Mickey pulled him close, cocooning Ian’s long legs with his own. He kissed him until Ian began to relax. “It’s just what?”

“What if I’m no good at this?”

“The fuck are you talking about? You’ve been doing this shit for almost three years.” 

Ian nodded. He had indeed taken on a full father-figure role with Yevgeny since coming home. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he was as much as a dad to him as Mickey was. 

“Were you scared? I mean, with Yevy?” Ian asked.

“Shitless. But I had a lot more shit going on then, though. Fuck, I was just a kid myself, and married to a fucking whore – “

“Don’t call her that.” 

Mickey rolled his eyes, “… A fucking sex toy distributor – better?” Ian laughed and shook his head. “Anyway, I wasn’t ready for a fucking kid, not to mention you weren’t there. That fucked me up pretty damn good.” 

Ian pulled him in a little closer. They had both been in a terrible place when Yevgeny was born, and Mickey was right – their lives were completely different now. They weren’t working to survive their shitty childhoods or each other anymore. They were together, thriving, and they had a baby girl on the way.

“You’re ready, Ian.” Mickey said, then added, “Of course, I’m not sure I’m ready. This little shit’s gonna come out with red hair, one way or the other, and I know for a fact no good ever came from a fucking redhead.”

Mickey had made it a point over the years to let Ian and Svetlana know how much misery they caused him. 

“With my red hair, your shitty attitude… we’re fucked.” Ian said. They both laughed, knowing it was the truth. 

“I wanted to ask you something, but I don’t know. I keep fucking overthinking this and …” He took Mickey’s hand, kissed it, then said, “I wanna get married, Mickey.”

“To who?” Mickey joked. 

Ian got up and grabbed something from the top bureau drawer, then pulled Mickey to sit up on the edge of the bed. He kneeled slowly onto the floor, and laughed, “This wasn’t exactly how I had pictured this.” He said.

The humor had gone from Mickey’s face as he watched Ian kneel in front of him. He swallowed and took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. It had been coming since the minute Ian came home – they both knew it – but until that moment, neither of them had really pushed the matter. Ian opened the small velvet box and took Mickey’s hand.

“Mickey, I love you. I can’t remember a single day of my life that you haven’t been a part of it, and I don’t ever want to live another day without you there with me. I know we haven’t talked about this, and I’ve thought about what you said once about not being the marrying kind of guy, but –“

“Yes.” Mickey interrupted.

“ – I want our kids to know that we’re always going to be here, together, for them – and you once said that you wanted to – ”

“Ian. I said yes.” Mickey had never been so sure of anything in his entire life. He’d been thinking about it for over a year since his and Svet’s divorce was finalized, but Ian had been so busy with school, then the invitro appointments, and it just kept getting put off for another day. “I’ll fucking marry you. Now – yesterday – just tell me when.”

\-------------  
Svetlana knew something was up immediately the next morning when Ian asked her to go out to breakfast with them. Eating out wasn’t the unusual part. It was Mickey’s sunny disposition that raised her suspicions. As soon as they were seated at the restaurant, she noticed Mickey fidgeting with his hands under the booth.

“Show me.” She demanded, holding her hand out to him.

He furrowed his brows at her, “Show you what?”

“Don’t be stupid.” She wiggled her fingers, “Let me see your hands.”  
Ian’s smile gave it away, but Mickey had nothing to hide, so he put his hands on the table – nothing more than the F U C K U – U P tats to see. 

“The fuck are you looking for?” he asked, knowing what she was looking for.

She looked at Ian, who was now beaming. “Where’s the ring we picked out?” She asked. Mickey looked from her to Ian, then back to her again.

“You knew about this?” Mickey asked her. 

“Of course, I knew about it. Now let me see if it fits.” She winked at Ian, “It took you long enough to ask him.”

Mickey reached inside his pocket and put the ring on the table for Svetlana to admire. His grumpy face melted away as he attempted to hold back a smile. The ring was perfect. It was matte-finished black tungsten, with a single diamond in the center, and a polished beveled edge – simple and understated. Ian had engraved a simple “IM” inside two hearts on the inside. He was afraid Mickey would think it was cheesy, but the entire night before, Mickey had taken the ring off just to look at the engraving again and again.

“Who else knows?” Mickey grumbled.

“No one,” Ian assured him. “Just Svet… and Yevy. I had to ask his permission.” 

“Why aren’t you wearing it?” She asked.

“I’ll wear it when we do the deed.” He said, rolling it around his finger before slipping it back into his pocket.

“So, any ideas when that will be? I think we only have about 3 more weeks before this little princess of ours decides she’s coming home, so you might want to wait a while.” Svet said.

“Tuesday,” Mickey answered. “We’re doing it Tuesday. Just us, you, and Yevy, at the courthouse.”

“What about Mandy?” Svetlana asked, knowing Mandy would have blood if she missed it.

Ian shook his head and took her hand. “No. I know she won’t be happy about it, but then there’s Colin, and Lip, and a dozen other people who won’t be happy… see what I’m saying? We just want it to be us – me, Mickey, you, and our kids. Everyone else will just have to get over it.”

“We’ll invite everyone to a BBQ this weekend,” Mickey added. “That’s it, Svet. That’s what we want.”

She nodded, smiled, and wiped away a happy tear at their inclusion of her on their special day. “Can I at least order a cake?”

“Yes! Chocolate. And don’t let them do any gay shit to it either. Just something simple and small.” Mickey said, but Ian gave a subtle shake of his head and mouthed ‘a real big cake,’ making Svet laugh.


	75. Chapter 75

Ian hung his suit on the door hook next to Mickey’s, trying out different ties for each. Mickey came into the room, carrying a tiny version of the dark blue suit he would be wearing and held it up.

“Look at this!” He said happily. “Svet found one just like mine for Yevy.” 

He hung the tiny suit up next to his own suit, admiring all three of them. Yevgeny’s suit had a small blue bowtie, so Ian settled on a black and blue design for Mickey’s. Mickey grabbed a similar black and burgundy design to go with Ian’s black suit.

“That one,” Mickey said. Mickey pulled the blankets down on the bed and turned out the light, waiting for Ian to undress and crawl in beside him before answering. 

“Hey Mick, can I ask you a question?”

“Hmm?”

“What is 6?” Ian asked. He’d thought about that number for months after Mickey had written it on his cast at the hospital, but after time it had just slipped his mind to ask about it. He didn’t have to explain what he was asking – Mickey already knew. 

“Six… regrets.” Mickey answered at last. “I could think of six times in my life that I didn’t have the fucking courage to stay and tell you that I wanted you, so instead, I walked away because I was too chicken shit.” He kissed his fiancé. “But that day in the hospital, when you wanted me to leave… that wasn’t one of them. I would have stayed as long as you wanted me there, but you didn’t, and I didn’t want to make things harder on you, so I left. I don’t regret that. I needed to come home and get shit done, so you could have a place to come to when you were ready.”

Ian leaned into Mickey, tangling their legs together. “When I was deployed, all I ever did was think about coming home to you. Every patrol, every night, all I was doing was making my way home to you, but then I came back… broken, and I was so fucking scared that you wouldn’t want me like that.”

“Ian, I have more fucking scars than you’ll ever have,” Mickey said. 

Ian pulled Mickey to him, kissing him long and slow, completely amazed that in less than twenty-four hours, he would be holding his husband. “When I said I loved you, I counted your scars too, Mickey.”


	76. Chapter 76

When Ian got off the elevator, Svetlana was sitting alone in the hallway of the courthouse in a beautiful green dress that Ian had bought her for the occasion, holding a little white box.. She stood to meet him, admiring his perfectly styled hair and black suit.

“Hi. You look beautiful, Svet.” He said, giving her a warm hug and kiss on her cheek. “Where’s Mick and Yevy?”

“In the bathroom. Yevgeny spilled juice on his jacket. How are you feeling? You’re limping more than usual?” She asked, concerned. He was also using his cane which he tried to avoid as much as possible.

“Nah, I’m ok. Just overdid it a little last night.” He said. She gave him a raised eyebrow look, and laughed, “Sorry. Too much information.” He laughed. “I’ll be ok. Nothing a good massage won’t fix later.” He said, smiling.

“It sounds like that’s what got you in this condition in the first place.” She said. Ian looked at his watch, then down the hall. “You want me to go find them?” Svet asked.

“No. You sit, relax. I’ll go.” He kissed her once more, then hesitated. “Svet. In case I forgot to say it, I love you. Thank you.”

They both immediately got misty-eyed, and she laughed. “I spent a lot of time on my make up today, just for you, so don’t make me ruin it before we get pictures.”

“No, Svet, I want to say this.” He wasn’t even sure where to begin with everything he wanted to tell her, and he knew he had the rest of his life to say it, but right then he knew he needed to say something to her. “You’ve given me the most beautiful life, and now this.” He placed his hand softly on her belly where their daughter was kicking away, and smiled. “I love you, Svet, and I know Mickey feels the same, even if he’s a complete asshole about it – and I’m so happy you’re here today.”

Svet placed her hand on top of his and wiped the tears from her eyes, careful not to mess up her make up.

“I love you, too.” She said, on the verge of a complete hormonal breakdown, then added, “And I can’t thank you enough for getting that asshole out of my bed.” She busted out laughing, then hugged Ian tight. “Ok, enough of this. Go find them. I’m going to go fix my make up.”

Ian found Mickey in the bathroom with Yevgeny who was standing up on the counter. They were staring into the mirror doing their best Hulk impressions, flexing their muscles, growling, and making angry faces. Ian watched them for a minute before interrupting.

“Ehem… You two plan on coming out any time soon?” he asked.

“We’re getting our game faces, Papa!” Yevgeny confessed. “Come try!”

Ian laughed, “Not now, baby. Maybe later.” He grabbed his son from the counter and kissed him. “You’re all wet.”

Yevgeny looked guiltily at his wet suit. “Daddy did it.”

“The fuck I did,” Mickey said. “You spilled the juice, I just cleaned it.” Mickey turned his attention to Ian, tugging at the jacket collar and admiring the way his pants hung on him. He noticed Ian’s cane. “You look nice. Leg feeling ok?”

"Yeah," Ian answered, then lowered his voice and whispered in Mickey's ear, "But that thing we did last night... probably should take it a little easier next time."

"Don't look at me. I'm not the one who insisted on trying it. That was all you - but I ain't complaining." Mickey laughed. He set Yevgeny on the floor. "Come on, kid. Let's go get fuckin' married."

"Yeah! Fuckin' married!" Yevgeny parroted excitedly.

"No, Yevgeny!" Ian scorned.

"Daddy said it first," He said defensively as they walked out of the bathroom.


	77. At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At Last! I want to go on record as saying I wrote this chapter and picked this song for their wedding LONG before Shamey ever wrote their wedding! 😆
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S-cbOl96RFM

Mickey and Ian walked into the courtroom with their son, hand in hand, where Svetlana waited for them. There was a stock flower arrangement at the front of the room, the Judge, the clerk, and a small table that held a bottle of champagne with two long flutes and several plastic cups. Svetlana removed two cupcakes from the box she was carrying and placed them on the table next to the champagne, then went to stand with Ian, Mickey, and her son. Ian gave the Judge a nod when they were finally ready.

Mickey reached for Ian’s hands, his own now trembling. Ian gave them a small, reassuring squeeze, suddenly feeling as nervous as Mickey seemed to be. The Judge began to speak, and Ian knew immediately he wasn’t going to make it long before he was crying like a baby. He took a deep breath and swallowed hard, trying to pay attention to the words that would bind him and Mickey together for life, but all he could hear was the beating of his own heart. He never took his eyes off Mickey’s.

Mickey listened intently, nodding his head subtly as the judge talked about commitment and love. Tears welled and threatened to fall as the judge spoke about the sanctity of their union, their promise to love one another, and to always be the best men they could be for one another. Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand – Ian had made him a better man. Everything he was or would become was because Ian had taught him what love was.

Ian ran his thumb softly across Mickey’s cheek as a small tear escaped the corner of his eye.

The judge turned to Ian, “Ian, please repeat after me – “

"I, Ian, take you, Mickey, to be my husband, to have and to hold you,” just as expected, the tears began to well in his eyes as well.

Mickey held his hands tighter, holding in a breath as his husband spoke.

“To honor you… and treasure you…” Ian wiped at the corner of his eyes and took a stuttered breath in, “to be at your side in sorrow and in joy, in good times, and bad, and to love you always. I promise you this from my heart, for all the days of my life."

Svet wiped furiously at her eyes. Yevgeny looked at all of them worried, “Why is Papa crying?” he said, on the verge of tears himself, but making everyone laugh a little bit.

“I’m ok, baby,” Ian assured him. He wiped his eyes again and nodded as he pulled himself together.

Mickey was not ok. He nodded along with Ian but was scared to death he wouldn’t be able to say a single word now that it was his turn.

The Judge looked to him and said quietly, “Mickey, please repeat after me… I, Mickey, take you, Ian, to be my husband –“

Mickey looked at the judge, knowing he had to speak, but he couldn’t do it. He looked at Ian, nodding as if to let him know he was almost ready. Ian squeezed his hands and Mickey opened his mouth, then nodded again. He couldn’t speak. He was overwhelmed with love. He bit at his lip, then said quietly, “I’m sorry… I just…” he wiped his eyes, nodded again, and looked to Ian for help.

Ian smiled, then flexed his arms at his side and made a scary Hulk face. Mickey busted up laughing, and everyone else laughed as well.

“Yeah, Daddy. Game face!”

Mickey took a deep breath and tried again… He failed miserably, his voice shook even more than Ian's had through his vows, but he got them out at last. Ian pulled him into a hug and kissed his head adoringly before everyone got back to the ceremony at hand. The Judge looked to Svetlana and said, “Svetlana, you had something you wanted to read?”

Svetlana unfolded a piece of paper. “I changed it a little bit, but – Love one another like the sun loves the moon, giving its light knowing that he will be eclipsed once in a while. Even when the rain falls, the sun and moon still exist together. And when the moon grows dark, the sun is there waiting for him to return, for one cannot truly be complete without the other, just as I know the two of you cannot exist without the other.” She folded the paper then teared up again, “Thank you both for loving me when I had no one else, and giving me this wonderful life. I wish the same for you both, always.”

The Judge read Corinthians, blessing their marriage, then looked to Yevgeny who was holding his Hulk action figure in hand, and asked, “Young man, do you have the rings?”

Svetlana helped him unbutton his jacket pocket and took the rings out. Ian kissed his son’s head as he took the rings. He handed one to Mickey.

“Mickey, with this ring, I thee wed.” He slipped the ring onto his husband’s hand, then pulled it to his lips and kissed it.

Mickey took the ring he was holding and slipped it onto Ian’s hand slowly, knowing that band was only just the smallest symbol of the lives they had built together, but loving it as much as anything else. It had been a long hard road getting there, and he still couldn’t believe he was the one who got to marry Ian.

“Ian, with this ring, I thee wed.”

Svetlana clapped her hands together happily, and before the judge could pronounce them married, Mickey had already pulled Ian in for their first kiss as husbands, all the nervous tears and shaking hands far behind them.


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it through this mess of a story! Someday I'll edit it. 
> 
> (Don't hold your breath)

Mandy read the text when she got off work. It was simple: Grilling some steaks on Saturday. Everyone is invited. Dress nice.

“They fucking got married!” Mandy screamed. “Those motherfuckers! I’ll kill them!”

She tried Ian’s number first, then Mickey’s, then Svet’s, but no one answered. She tried Ian one more time and left a message. “Listen asshole, if I show up on Saturday and you two are fucking married, I’m gonna kick your ass! Hold on… oh shit, you’re calling me… ignore this.” She switched over to Ian’s call, “Hey asshole, you better not have – what? NOW? It’s not time yet! Ok, ok! I’m on my way.”

\----------

Ian, Mickey, and Svetlana welcomed their second child into the world at 3:42 a.m. – Sophia Elizabeth Milkovich. Mandy sat down the hall in the waiting room with her sleeping nephew stretched out beside her, anxiously awaiting permission to go see her new niece. When Ian came into the room to get her, his eyes were red with tears. She hugged him and cried with him for a good long minute before asking, “Can I go see her?”

He nodded, then lifted his sleeping son and carried him back to the room where his baby sister was waiting to meet him.

Mickey was in a corner chair with Sophia comfortably bundled against his chest. The room was quiet now, all the nurses and doctors were gone for the moment. Svet lay exhausted, ready for sleep. Mandy ran to her and hugged her before going to Mickey and begging to hold the newest member of the Milkovich family.

“She’s beautiful, Ian.” Mandy beamed, pulling the blanket away to reveal a head of tiny red curls. 

Ian passed Yevgeny on to Mickey, then went to Svet and kissed her forehead, “Can I bring you anything?”

She shook her head, “I just want to sleep,” she said. 

“Ok. We’ll keep it down.” He said, then took his seat next to Mickey, hand in hand. 

Svet rolled to her side, smiling happily as she watched her family - the men who loved her and the children they’d given her, then closed her eyes let sleep take her.

**Author's Note:**

> As with all shitty stories I write, they come with shitty playlists that often shape them. Some chapters have links to the songs that shaped them, which often changed the direction from what I thought was supposed to happen next. The full (random) playlist can be found here:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLUOWc5bom23B8Bd4TEImSkHfW36gLp1gz
> 
> Thank you for reading and for any comments. I don't always get a chance to reply, but I read all the comments and appreciate you!


End file.
